#dear god let that woman suffer and suffer and suffer and let her go to hell. amen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 10 months ago

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What is Broken II (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.

Author's Note: So, this did end up getting split in two. It just reached a natural stopping point and it made more sense to add a part IV instead of have an unnaturally long part II.

Taglist is done via reblogs

Series Masterlist

What is Broken

The next morning, she watched with red-rimmed eyes as the sun emerged over the horizon. As the brightness forced her to look away, she took a moment to thank whichever god had given her the foresight to send Aemond to sleep elsewhere. It had been another horrid night, and to explain it after all that had been said between them would have been far beyond miserable.

He would return soon, she was sure. With new honeyed words and gentle touches. With his beautiful pleading eye and perfect pouting mouth. With the softness of the elusive loving smile he reserved only for her.

Or did he? He had given Alys so many things she thought only they shared. Why wouldn’t he give the whore that smile as well?

The very thought had her stomach lurching again, but she raised herself to sit against the head of the bed and steeled herself against being sick. She took deep, controlled breaths, turned towards the eastern window to feel the fresh air coming off the bay, and set her mind free to wander.

Not entirely free, however. She did not let her thoughts go anywhere near her husband.

Instead, she thought of only nice things. The flowers that would soon bloom in the gardens with the coming of spring. The fresh fruits that would once more grace her table. Weather fine enough that she could ride through the Kingswood on her beloved steed, Litse, once more.

Eventually, the roiling faded, and she looked down to her stomach. “Kōdrȳsi rhinkpa jemo gaomua hae jālosa yno gaoman?” Is that as unpleasant for you as it is for me?

A soft thump near the top of her stomach felt very much like a noncommittal answer.

She laughed a little. “Iā jeme ñuha boteri raqāt daor?” Or do you enjoy making me suffer?

That question received no answer.

Just when she was about to say something more, she heard the door to her chambers creaking open and soft footsteps approaching. Of course, he would come to her so early; he had always slept so little. She clenched the sheets in her fists, preparing to face Aemond once more.

But it was not Aemond who walked through the door.

Instead of a single violet eye, she was met with a warm, brown, tear-filled pair that matched her own, and a helpless cry escaped her lips before desperate sobs overtook her. “Mama!”

Alicent ran to her side, taking her only remaining daughter in her arms and fighting back her tears. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other gently cupped her chin and lifted it so she could look into her daughter’s eyes. “Oh, my dearest girl…”

She buried her face in her mother’s rich auburn hair, savoring the comforting smell she’d known since infancy. There was no question that Alicent had been told about Aemond’s misdeeds – though whether he told her himself or she heard another way, she could not decide.

“I hate him,” she whispered weakly.

“No, you don’t,” Alicent countered immediately. She pulled away, took her hands, and softened her voice. “You are not capable of hating Aemond, my dear. Nor is he capable of hating you.”

“Then why did he do this to me?”

Alicent sighed, brow furrowing as she pondered her son’s actions. She did not have a good answer, for Aemond had always been the perfect son, save for the death of Lucerys Velaryon, and now, she supposed, this. It was behavior she had anticipated from Aegon, or had in the past. With her eldest son, she knew he acted out of his anger that he could not be the son his father wanted.

But with Aemond…

Aemond loved his wife. He was discontented with many things in his life – his position as the second son, his injury, and his father’s negligence – but never with her. His gaze had never strayed to any other woman, even before their engagement. Once they were betrothed, it was rare to find his gaze anywhere else but on her. He was so happy with her, always. What could have altered his devotion?

“I do not know,” Alicent finally answered. The words did little to soothe her weeping daughter. “Men… they can be wonderful when they truly love you. But even then, they have their weaknesses. Aemond was gone a very long time. Perhaps he was simply lonely?”

She shook her head and ripped her hands from her mother’s. “If he was lonely, he could have come back to me. He was supposed to return to me several times but never did.”

While Aemond was at Harrenhal, she, Aegon, and their grandsire had sent countless ravens asking for his return. Otto and Aegon asked so they could hear the news from the battlefield and try to adjust their plans accordingly. She asked because she missed and needed him. Badly.

He always sent some excuse. The battle was not yet over. Vhagar was too tired to fly. He did not want to leave his stronghold undefended when enemies lurked nearby. She had trusted each excuse like a fool.

“Did you know she’s carrying his child?” she asked, drawing the blankets further up her chest as if she could protect the life inside her from the horrible fact.

Alicent nodded. “I did. He told me.”

She frowned. At least Aemond had the decency to tell their mother himself. “What else did he tell you?”

“He was very upset, my dear.” She tried to suppress the kernel of joy that sparked at her mother’s words. “Not at you, of course, but at himself.”

“As he should be.”

“Yes, he should. But he loves you so much,” Alicent grimaced, setting a hand on her daughter’s belly. “And he loves your family so much. He is inconsolable at the thought that you may never forgive him.”

That kernel of joy went up in flames, and she looked at her mother with unfettered rage. “Why should I forgive him? He has betrayed me and has done nothing to regain my trust beyond his weak, selfish apologies.”

“Yes, but –”

“He lied to me again last night!” she cried. “He said it was only once. He looked me in the eye and lied! And he thought I would be stupid enough to believe him.”

Alicent sighed heavily as she looked away from her daughter. This wasn’t like Aemond – none of it was. Even after hearing his tearful explanation the night before, she was no closer to understanding it. Nor to finding a way to fix it.

“That was wrong of him,” she said at last. “All of it was – is. My dear, I do not know what to say or how to make it better. Your father, for all his faults, never strayed. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are in. But – ”

“But what?” Her daughter glared at her with narrowed eyes, and her hand clenched into a fist by her side. “I cannot begin to imagine forgiving him, nor how I will ever look at him again without feeling this… this rage. Mother, I cannot be a wife to someone who hurt me so deeply, no matter his supposed remorse.”

She looked down at her stomach, then back to her mother. Though her eyes were red and wet, and her lip trembled, she wore a look of absolute determination. “I want to go. I don’t know where, but I don’t want to be here. I can’t bear to be with him.”

“Oh, my darling,” the queen pulled her daughter to her chest once more, not speaking again until she had calmed. “In any other circumstance, I would arrange for you to leave for Oldtown within the day. But it is not so simple.”

The princess stiffened in her mother’s arms.

“There are so few of us left, and we have already spent so much time apart. We cannot let ourselves become estranged.” Alicent bowed her forehead to rest against her daughter’s. “We cannot appear weak, especially not you and Aemond.”

She was frozen, but at that, she gathered enough strength to lift her eyes to look at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘especially’ not us?”

“There are no more heirs, darling, not of our line. But you,” her hand rested gently on her daughter’s cheek. “You are changing that. In mere weeks, your children – yours and Aemond’s – will become the new heirs to the throne.”

“They might not,” she argued weakly, her voice soft and breathless. “They may be daughters.”

Alicent smiled sadly, placing a hand gently at the top of the girl’s stomach. “This one has given you enough trouble that I would wager the Red Keep itself that he’s a boy.”

She put her hand over her mother’s as she tried and failed to smile. The Maester came to the same conclusion many weeks ago. Then, she had been thrilled at the possibility of giving Aemond an heir. Now, she wished desperately for daughters.

“Why do our heirs matter?” She asked. “Aegon will remarry and have his own soon enough.”

The question was met by a heavy, cloying silence.

“Mother?”

Alicent schooled her face into the careful neutrality that had served her so well as queen, though the tears shining in her dark eyes betrayed her heartbreak and grief. “I am afraid Aegon will not marry nor sire any more heirs. The Maesters… they predict he will leave us by the year’s end.”

Her heart stopped, then sank. “But that means Aemond…”

“Will be king soon,” Alicent confirmed. She again brushed her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “And you will be his queen.”

The implication hung over her like a black cloud: a queen could never leave her king.

Aemond knelt in the Royal Sept at the feet of the Father. He had not slept the night before, not after he told his mother what had happened and watched her cry harder than he had ever seen. He’d gone all the way back to his rooms – those he shared with his wife – before remembering the promise he had made.

He could not go back to her. To her arms. To his home.

So, he ended up in the Sept. He didn’t remember walking there, leaving the Holdfast and crossing the upper bailey. He just knew he’d been kneeling there long before the sun crested the horizon. He’d prayed and wept and begged the gods to either reveal to him a path to redemption or strike him down and spare him further torment.

The gods ignored him. He could not blame them for it.

His lamenting was halted by the sound of the carved stone doors opening, followed by a strangle rattling sound Aemond could not identify. He turned and saw his brother and king for the first time in months.

A servant stood behind Aegon to push the wheeled chair in which the kind sat with a blanket over his lap to conceal his crooked, atrophied legs, but was dismissed with a wave of a red, scarred hand. Aegon’s injuries after Rook’s Rest had been so horrific even Aemond struggled to look at him. The scars he now bore were hardly better. The king looked twisted, broken, and weak. It was a miracle little Jaehaera could look at her father without collapsing in terror.

As Aegon wheeled himself down the Sept aisle, Aemond steeled himself against the horrible expression on his brother’s face: empathy, disappointment, and rage.

In their youth, even Aegon had been protective of their youngest sister, to the point that he restrained himself from making too many lewd comments in her presence. And after years of Aemond calling him depraved, perverted, and whorish, he would, of course, delight in the irony that his little brother was just as weak as him.

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Aegon drawled. His voice was as damaged as his body, weak and rasping. “But then I saw our mother. I always thought I was the only one that could make her look like that. So sad and weepy and disappointed.”

Aemond reminded himself that Aegon was finally the uncontested king and that throttling the life from him was now more than ever considered treason. “I hardly think you are qualified to pass judgment on me,” he growled.

“No,” Aegon smirked as he brought his chair to a stop at Aemond’s side. “But I think I am well qualified to gloat, don’t you?”

Suppressing his sneer, Aemond turned to face his brother. “Are you? How many unsuitable women have you bedded? How many bastards have you sired?” He scoffed, but his threadbare feeling of righteousness immediately gave under the lead weight of his desperation. “Why does my wife abhor me when I make this one mistake when Helaena never cared when you did the same over and over again?”

“Because Helaena never loved me, Aemond.” For the first time in their lives, Aegon was the calmer and more rational of the brothers. “She cared for me as a sister, but she never loved me as her husband. Not like our haedus loves you.”

“I love her, too.” Aemond’s face fell into utter regret and despair. “So much.”

“Yet you still broke her heart.”

Aemond turned back to the statue of the Father, bowing his head. “I did not mean to. I didn’t mean to hurt her – I would never intend to hurt her.”

“I know,” Aegon angled his chair and slumped slightly. “But you did. Over and over. I saw it. Not just with your adultery, but every time you did not come home when she asked. Whenever you took Vhagar into battle without warning her – and us. And each day you weren’t here when those babes put her through the seven hells with – ”

Aemond’s heart stopped, and his entire world with it.

“‘Babes?’”

Aegon’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t say that.”

The same blatant liar he’d been for years.

“You did,” Aemond insisted, his rage at himself now turning on his king, his mother, and everyone else who had kept this secret from him – other than his ābrazȳrītsos. He could still never be angry with her. “Why did you say that?”

After a moment of frustrated silence, Aegon finally answered. “Because the Maesters have determined that your wife is carrying twins. Something you would know if you had come home when we asked.”

“I was fighting your war,” Aemond growled, rising to his feet so his brother could no longer look down at him, “to defend your throne. It was not always possible for me to return.”

“You mean it was ‘never’ possible, right?” In that moment, Aegon truly seemed a king – mature and wise for the first time Aemond had ever seen. He almost resembled their father, as he had been on the few occasions they saw him sit the throne. “You never returned. Not for your duties, and not for your wife.”

“I…”

“If you’d come home immediately after you first fucked whoever-she-is, or any other time we summoned you, perhaps things would be better. But you didn’t, and now you must deal with the consequences of your own stupid mistakes. Again.”

Aemond flinched at the harsh words but could not deny their veracity. The death of Lucerys Velaryon had sparked a war that nearly tore House Targaryen and the realm apart. Now this… this could tear his marriage apart.

His family could be broken beyond repair before their child – their children – were ever born.

A scar-mottled hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his despair. “I apologize. I did not come here to make you feel worse than I am sure you already do.”

“Why did you come, then?” Aemond stared at the mangled hand that held him still. He could not bear to look in his brother’s eyes.

Aegon sighed. “I am sending you back to Harrenhal.”

“No.” Aemond ripped his arm away.

“Brother, the peace talks…”

“I said no.” He clenched his fists.

Aegon slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the Sept. “I am your king, and I am giving you an order! You do not get to say ‘no.’”

Aemond froze, his rage roiling, desperate to spill over. But Aegon was his king, and other than his ābrazȳrītsos, his duty to the throne and his family was the thing most dear to him. So, he remained still and silent as he listened without protest.

“Cregan Stark and his army are due to arrive at Harrenhal in mere days,” Aegon explained. “I am in no condition to travel so far, and it would insult Stark and the others who were loyal to Rhaenyra to ask them to travel even further. So, as you are still Prince Regent, you will return to the Riverlands and act as my proxy in the negotiations.”

Absorbed by all that had happened since he’d arrived in King’s Landing, Aemond had entirely forgotten that particular duty. He’d known he had to attend before he left, but how could he go now? What would his wife think if he went back to Harrenhal – where Alys remained – so soon?

“You will take our sister with you.”

“I cannot,” the weak, whispered words escaped him without thought, “I cannot do that to her. You cannot do that to her.”

Somehow, the idea of bringing her with him to Harrenhal was worse than returning there himself. What would happen if she saw Alys? Spoke to her? She was already so hurt, and he did not want her to break entirely. He could not stand it. He would not allow it.

“Aegon, please,” he begged, dignity cast aside in favor of protecting his ābrazȳrītsos. “Do not make her go.”

The king straightened in his chair. “I wish I did not have to. She has already endured so much, and I have no desire to cause her more pain. But I have no other option.”

“Why? What could be more important than keeping her safe?”

Aegon’s face was drawn and filled with regret and grief. “Ensuring the realm sees you as a strong king when I am gone.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the Red Keep itself, and Aemond’s heart grew heavier still when he realized what his brother meant.

“You do not have much time left, do you?”

“Likely only a few months, according to the Maesters. But I’ll be gone by year’s end,” Aegon answered, trying and failing to summon a wry smile. “It’s almost not worth it to un-name you Prince Regent, when the crown will soon be yours once more.”

Silence fell once more.

Aemond wanted to argue. Against going to Harrenhal. Against bringing her with him. Against being king. For if he was king…

“She will be bound to me forever,” he said, not realizing he was saying it aloud, “in a way far stronger than just our shared blood or marriage. She will never be able to leave me.”

Aegon gripped the arm of his chair tighter. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” Yes. No. Aemond fumbled for his words, running a hand down his face as his thoughts raced through his mind like a thousand whirling dragons. “I want her to stay with me, but not at the cost of her happiness.”

Aegon considered the answer, the picture of a king passing judgment. At last, he nodded once. “Even if she decides she hates you, she will not leave. Her sense of duty is nearly as strong as yours, and she would never wish to raise the babes without their father.” He gestured to himself, then Aemond. “She knows well what becomes of children with no true father.”

There came a knock on the Sept door before Aemond could say anything more

Aegon sighed. “It is time for you to leave, I’m afraid. The wheelhouse is waiting.”

“What about – ”

Aegon waved a hand. “Mother went to your rooms this morning to explain the situation to her and help her prepare for the journey.”

“Can we not simply fly?” Aemond did not want for her to have to be stuck with him for the entire journey. The gods forbid that they should be made to share a tent or room at a roadside inn. Though doing so would delight him. He’d missed her so much that he would gladly take any moment he could with her, even when she was so angry with him.

Because she would be angry with him, and spending time with him would do nothing but make her miserable. Her happiness was more important than his. Always.

His brother scoffed as he began wheeling down the aisle toward the door. “Not in her condition.”

Of course. Aemond felt a fool for not realizing it himself. He’d flown Vhagar with Alys, but… she was not as far along as his wife, nor as delicate. A carriage it must be.

He should never have flown with Alys. Not for her sake or that of her child, but because flying atop Vhagar was something he did with his ābrazȳrītsos. It was something sacred they shared, and he had willfully desecrated it.

Gods, he had to get Alys out of his head. He could never become the husband his wife deserved when the witch still haunted his every thought.

Aegon stopped at the threshold of the Sept, again reaching out to grab Aemond’s arm. His eyes glinted with violent promise as he locked eyes with his brother. “If you do anything to hurt her again, intentional or not, I will exile you to Essos, and you will never see her again. I will declare you dead and marry her myself to ensure her children inherit the throne.”

“She deserves a better husband than you,” Aemond spat. It would break him never to see her or their children. But he knew he would deserve it.

The king smiled wickedly, still only a shadow of his former self. “She deserves better than the both of us, brother.”

Aemond bit back his retort and inclined his head to his king as he had at the coronation. “I swear on my life, I will never hurt her again.”

Aemond was waiting for her in the courtyard when she finally left the castle, well bundled in a thick, fur-lined cloak. The weather had turned, a final storm of the departing winter. Now, the sky reflected her mood – gray and somber.

At least the explosiveness of her anger had calmed, and she was relatively sure she wouldn’t strangle Aemond along the journey. But to go to Harrenhal with him, to be in the very place where he had betrayed her, to face the woman who carried her husband’s bastard …

She could be brave. She had to be brave. This was her duty, and her duty was sacred.

Aemond had taught her that.

She did not acknowledge him as she kissed her mother and brother farewell, nor as she walked to the steps set at the wheelhouse door.

But then he held out his hand to help her in.

Reluctantly, she took it. The brief touch was marginally more tolerable than the possibility of her stumbling and him having to catch her by the arm or, gods forbid, her waist. That would be far too much of a touch, and she was not sure she was ready for it – if she would ever be ready for it.

He stepped in just behind her, the two of them standing there for a moment, wondering where to sit. In the past, they’d always sat next to each other at the rear of the wheelhouse, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. But now, the thought of doing so again made her nauseous. So, she turned to the seat in the front.

“Wait,” Aemond grabbed her shoulder, then immediately released it when he saw her wince. He cleared his throat, then motioned to the opposite seat with his hand. “Please, sit here. I don’t want you getting sick riding backward.”

She looked from the seat to his wary smile. Surely he didn’t expect her to still sit with him, did he?

“I’ll sit on the other side,” he added after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a nod of her head. But when she began walking to the rear seat, Aemond again stopped her.

“Before you sit, let me…” he trailed off, stepping to the front seat and gathering most of the pillows and cushions that lay atop it into his arms. Then, he deposited them on the other side. He spent several minutes arranging them until they were finally to his liking. “There.”

He reached out his hand again to help her sit. This time, she did not take it. She was more than capable of sitting down on her own, and she was well aware that Aemond knew that, too. He was merely trying to touch her again, and that, she would not allow.

Once she sat, Aemond began fussing again. “Please stop,” she sighed when he started crossing the wheelhouse to fetch even more pillows. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do need to do this,” he insisted. She could have sworn his eye shone before he turned back to the pillows and blankets. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve it.”

“A few pillows will not make me forgive you.” For a moment, as Aemond’s shoulders tightened, she almost regretted the words. She had spoken in haste and with cruelty. It was not something she was accustomed to. Somehow, his misdeeds were turning her into a mean and petty woman.

She was just about to apologize when Aemond spoke again, his voice more timid than it had been. “I know that, but I want to do it anyway. I want to show you how much I love you. Please.”

He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. It had been many years since he looked at her like that. When she was a girl, and she fell gravely ill, he stayed by her bedside against the instructions of the Maesters, holding her hand and begging her not to die. She had to look away from him to avoid falling into that memory.

“I am perfectly comfortable,” she said. “So you needn’t do anything more.”

With a sigh, Aemond threw the pillows in his arms carelessly on his seat, except for one – a small round cushion with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered upon it. “Just this one more, please.”

She looked at it suspiciously, some instinct in the back of her mind telling her not to allow it. But his voice was so weak, so desperate. And if it could help her be more comfortable on the long journey, what harm would it do? She nodded. “Very well.”

Aemond beamed and crossed the wheelhouse. With the pillow in hand, he knelt in front of her and brought a hand to hover over her belly. Before he made contact, he looked up to her, a hopeful smile still on his lips.

But that smile was no longer reassuring to her. Instead, it brought on a wave of mistrust and fear. “What are you doing?”

Finally, he laid his hand on her. “I…” His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly could not meet her eye. “This is to cradle your belly while we ride so you are not rattled around so much.”

Her hand flew out and latched onto his wrist, her hold so hard the skin around her hand quickly grew red. She did not want to see him, so she narrowed her eyes until her coming tears blurred her vision. It took several tries for her to speak through her rapid breathing. “Did Alys teach you that, too?”

Aemond looked as if she had just driven a dagger through his heart. “She did, but –”

“I told you never to do that!” She ripped the pillow from his hands and threw it across the wheelhouse with all her strength.

He stayed kneeling, one hand braced on her seat. He had not flinched, only closed his eyes. “Wifey, if it makes you comfortable, if it helps you, then what does it matter how I learned it?”

“Because…” She furiously wiped her tears away, steadfastly looking away from him. “I don’t want you to think about her when you’re touching me.”

“I promise I am not thinking of her,” he insisted. “I could never think of her when I have with me.”

“No, only when I’m hundreds of miles away.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, his hand never leaving her belly. “How long have you known?” Aemond rasped out. “That we are to have two babes?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. How had he known? Who had told him? She did not look at him, did not want him to see the blush of shame that came over her. If either of them should be ashamed, it was him. What he did was far worse than keeping a secret, even one as important as this.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” she whispered. “But you did not come back when you were meant to – you were supposed to return and give Aegon a report on the war. You didn’t.”

Aemond bowed his head, hiding his cheeks – likely just as flushed as hers. He sniffed, as he often did when upset, and shook his head. “If I had known – ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” she snapped back. “Your… she was already pregnant by then, wasn’t she?”

For a moment, Aemond looked up at her in pleading before dropping his head again. “Yes,” his voice was thin and utterly defeated, “she was.” He reached to adjust the pillow by her side but decided against it. Then, he returned to the seat across from her, looking at her once before bowing his head and pounding on the roof twice.

Reins snapped, and the wheelhouse lurched forward.

The first hours in the wheelhouse passed in silence. Aemond hardly moved, staring at his clasped hands. She thought she felt his eyes on her several times, but whenever she looked at him, he did not look back.

She watched the world pass her by through the windows. She’d never gone north of King’s Landing before, other than a few short flights on Vhagar with Aemond. Then, she was too high to see the little differences, mile by mile. The trees changed and became sparser, as did the shrubs and flowers. The air felt different, as did the ground beneath the wheelhouse, which became softer and less turbulent the farther they went. Even the smell of the air changed. The slight brine she was so used to faded, turning into something green and damp. It was not an unpleasant change.

What was unpleasant was trying to fall asleep within the mountain of pillows and cushions Aemond had made for her. Once, she would have loved the plushness and softness of it. But with the babes in her belly, she had come to prefer more firmness.

She would have moved the pillows herself had she been able to. But between the sheer mass of cushions and her current size, maneuvering enough to do so was impossible. Grand Maester Orwyle had said even two months away from the birth, she was already larger than most mothers just before it. Of course, most mothers only had one babe to carry, not two. So, she was left with only wiggling around as much as she could to try and find a better position.

She didn’t.

With a huff, she looked at Aemond, hoping to silently glare at him and curse him for the stuffed throne he’d made for her. But this time, when she looked at him, he was looking back.

He wore an expression of concern, like he’d been watching her struggle for some time. His eye was wide, and his lips pinched together. She knew that look, and found herself now hating it. It meant he wanted to help, to understand what was wrong.

“I cannot get comfortable,” she explained, not that he deserved an explanation.

A spark of hope entered Aemond’s eye. “Do you…” he licked his lips. “I can hold you, if you’d like.”

“No!” She felt a slight pang of guilt at the hurt painted on his face at her rejection. He did not deserve her guilt, she reminded herself. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Aemond grimaced as if he could sense the lie. He probably could, for how well he knew her. “Are you sure? I can… I can just hold you. It won’t mean anything, I promise.”

Yes, yes, yes, her body seemed to scream. She had always found comfort in his arms, always slept best with him pressed against her. And him holding her would mean he would have to discard many of the ridiculous pillows. If she accepted, she could likely be asleep in moments.

But her heart… her heart would break to be held by him. She wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about if he had held Alys in this same way. If the whore had slept with her head resting on Aemond’s shoulders. If she had kissed his neck as she fell asleep, just as she had loved to do.

She would never be able to stop thinking about Alys. Every time Aemond looked at her, touched her, spoke to her. Alys would be a ghost that would haunt her forever.

A memory of the first time Aemond had taken her to the Dragonpit came to her.

He’d told her she couldn’t come with him, but relented the moment she started crying and dragged her into the carriage with him, Aegon, and Rhaenyra’s eldest sons. Jacaerys was the only one who argued against her accompanying them. He stopped complaining after Aemond shot him a threatening glare and declared that she was braver and more capable than he would ever be. But when they arrived at the Dragonpit, and Sunfyre was led up from the dens, she’d cowered behind Aemond. The sweet little creature - perhaps the size of one of the king’s hounds - she had once watched flit around Aegon wherever he went had somehow quickly turned into a beast larger than anything she’d ever seen, baring sharp teeth the size of her dinner knives. Aegon kneeled in front of her and nudged her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry, haedus. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” She still screamed when Aegon stepped within reach of those fangs. And again, when Aemond pulled her from behind his back so she could not hide from the dragon. “Do not be afraid, haedus. Sunfyre is only a dragon, as are you. The blood of the dragon runs true in your veins,” he said as she buried her face in her chest. Something about the words seemed to make Jace angry, but she didn’t know why. “I can’t help it, lēkia,” she whined. “He’s scaring me.” Aemond huffed slightly, petting her head tenderly. “You are afraid because you know very little about dragons. What we do not know can be terrifying.” He turned her to face Sunfyre, who was now perfectly docile while being saddled by Aegon. She squirmed to escape his grasp. “If you watch and listen to the Dragonkeepers, you will learn. The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked suddenly.

“My love?” Aemond looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. But when she held his stare, he whispered gently, “You don’t want to know. Not really.”

“I do,” she declared.Though his answer may shatter her heart completely, she had to know. His childhood voice echoed in her head. ‘The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.’

She swore she could see him remember the same memory she had. His eye darted around the wheelhouse anxiously. “It is not a good reason.”

“Unless she held you at sword point each time, there is not a reason I would call ‘good.’” She hoped it was something like that, that he hadn’t been given the choice to refuse her. It would make everything better, almost fine. But if it had been something like that, he would have already told her.

Aemond was silent for a long while. Long enough for the sun to reach its peak and begin its descent.

“I’d seen only one battle before I arrived at Harrenhal – Rook’s Rest,” he began. “In that battle, one dragon and rider were killed, and Aegon and Sunfyre were permanently wounded.”

“I know,” she whispered. She’d been there when Aemond had brought Aegon, broken, bloody, and burnt, back to the castle. She’d seen what happened to him. Aemond held her hair back as she was sick in the corridor outside the Grand Maester’s rooms.

Aemond nodded. “I was so afraid, ābrazȳrītsos, of what I would see when I truly went to war. And it was just as terrible as I’d feared. Even worse than what happened to Aegon, sometimes.” He waited to continue until she had unscrunched her eyes as she fought away another wave of nausea. “Every time I was scared, raqiarzītsos... And alone. She offered an escape. A chance to not think about the war, for at least a little while.”

“And to not think about me.”

He blanched, moving to stand, but thought better of it and sat back in his seat. “My love, I never wanted to stop thinking about you. I promise. I thought about you every moment of every day. You are what gave me the strength to ride to battle again and again – knowing that once it was all over, I’d be able to return to you.”

She glared at him. “So, you thought about me while you were fucking her?”

“Gods, no!” This time, he did rise, crossing the wheelhouse to fall at her feet. “I… I didn’t think about anything when I was with her. Not about you, or the war, or even her. It was the only way I could empty my mind of all the things that tormented me.”

“… I tormented you?” The idea that she could have done anything to make him want to forget her brought tears to her eyes.

“No. Never.” He tried to reach for her to cup her cheek, but she shrank away from him. “Don’t ever think that you could. What tormented me was that I was so far from you – that I could not be there for you. And the babes.”

He could have been, she knew. He should have been. “You had many opportunities to return. Why didn’t you?” Her voice caught in the back of her throat as a sob tried to escape. “Were you too ashamed of what you’d done?”

“I was and am ashamed,” he declared, and she believed him, “but that is not why I remained at Harrenhal. I knew that if I saw you again, I would never return to the battlefield. It was hard enough to leave you the first time. I could not endure it again.”

There was silence.

She leaned back towards him and allowed him to finally lay his hand across her cheek – an unconscious attempt to soften the blow of her next question. “Is it true that you spared her only because you lusted for her? That you took her to your bed in your first week at that awful place?”

Aemond sobbed, one horrible, wretched sob. His hand dropped, and he lowered his head into her lap, clutching at her dress like a child. The urge to comfort him tingled in her veins, to pet his hair and murmur soft words to him, to gently remove his eyepatch and assure him that all was well.

She did not move an inch.

At last, Aemond lifted his head. The bottom of his eyepatch was just askew enough to allow the tears from his ruined eye to escape. “I spared her because she claimed to be a witch – a seer. The claim was backed by several residents of the keep who had no reason to lie. She offered to lend me her aid in the war, to share her visions with me so I could be prepared when I led my men to battle. I agreed. I wanted to avoid the kind of slaughter I saw at Rook’s Rest. To prevent anyone from going through what happened to our brother. Then…

“I did lie with her in the first week,” he turned away as though he couldn’t say the words while facing her. “On the sixth day. We were to advance on Darry the next morning, to… it doesn’t matter why, just that it was the first time I would lead men to victory of their deaths. I asked Alys to share her vision of what would occur, and she did. She saw how fearful I was and told me that to win the battle, I must go into it without fear. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t.”

He swallowed thickly, still avoiding her gaze, and dropped his hand. “Then she offered her… further aid. I will not wound you by detailing what we did. But I will assure you that I did resist.” He licked his lips. “At least at first.”

A small comfort, she supposed.

“When I was with her, all my worries faded to nothing. I thought it was perhaps a spell she put on me, but it was not. My body just needed to find that satisfaction and release. I was hoping it was a spell. For that would mean I did not truly betray you.”

He faced her again. She did not know whether it comforted or saddened her to look into his wet, despairing eye. “But I did. And I continued to do so every time my fear threatened to overwhelm me. Which was, regrettably, often.

“I was weak,” he said with a mirthless laugh, “I was so weak. I should have been braver – better. I should have been the husband you deserve. I will spend every day of my life regretting it and trying to right what I have done wrong. I swear it.” He nodded as if to affirm the oath, yet it brought her no assurance. “I am so sorry, my love.”

He said nothing else.

She still had so many questions, wanted to know so much more. Her fears had barely been quelled. But it was something. And at the very least, the emotions Aemond’s story subjected her to had exhausted her. Enough that she knew she could close her eyes and be asleep within a heartbeat.

“Thank you. For telling me,” she whispered as she moved back in her seat, away from him. “I would like to rest now.”

Aemond bowed his head and retreated to his seat without asking again if he could hold her.

Her traitorous heart almost wished he had.

It was raining when she woke. The weather had apparently followed them north. She leaned closer to the window, wanting the wet air to cool her, but stopped when she noticed the wheelhouse wasn’t moving.

“Ser Marston and one of the porters are arranging rooms,” Aemond said softly. She did not reply, nor look at him. A glance out the window informed her that they were in some village she didn’t know, outside a relatively large building whose worn sign, cut in the shape of a stone wall, read simply ‘Inn.’

That question answered, she still didn’t look at Aemond. She knew he’d likely been watching her since they’d arrived… wherever they were. Perhaps longer. Judging by the dusk settling over the horizon, she’d been sleeping quite a while. And yet she hadn’t woken. She wondered if she should start sleeping during the day instead of at night.

“Mother said…” Aemond halted, likely waiting for her to look at him. She didn’t. “We will be sharing a room.”

She whipped her head around to face him, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with the motion. “No.”

Aemond sighed. “Raqiarzītsos, if the innkeeper notices we are apart, he may talk about it. Rumors will start.”

“Can’t we just pay him to remain silent? That’s what Mother did to prevent rumors from spreading about Aegon.”

“And yet rumors spread nevertheless,” his voice was soft and firm, like a parent explaining something to their child. The thought sickened her.

She wanted to say that those rumors spread because their mother could not pay off every woman Aegon had his way with – there had been too many to even know who they all were. But it had been their mother herself who told her that this would happen, that she would have to somehow stomach being in the same room as Aemond at night. That the consequences of not doing so would be worse than those that would come from him being there.

“You will not sleep in the bed,” she ordered, finally facing her husband, “you will sleep on whatever chair or couch is in the room or the floor if there is none.”

Aemond sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Very well.”

Curious, she’d expected more of a fight. For him to insist that a servant could see the half-empty bed and raise questions. For him to try and ply her into letting him into the bed with promises of holding her and keeping her warm. For him to try something. But he didn’t.

“Good.”

It was not a very nice room.

The paint was chipping off the walls, and the floorboards creaked. The bed linens were faded, the fur blankets patchy. The small table on one side leaned to one side, and an unshaped piece of wood held the couch by the fire level.

At least there was a couch, Aemond supposed. And as it was near the fire, he would not have to sleep in the cold to avoid depriving his wife of blankets.

She crossed the room to the bed, sitting on its edge and looking out the window again. After he’d agreed that he would not try and convince her to let him join her in the bed, she’d spent the rest of their time waiting in the carriage looking out one window, then crossing to the other side of the wheelhouse just before they were called to their room.

Even now, he could see her eyes flitting from one building to another, following the villagers as they milled about and fixating on the livestock that wandered the streets – cows, donkeys, sheep, even a small group of piglets.

He thought it was a distraction at first. But when she continued to watch the inconsequential town for far longer than he ever would, even in a new town, he realized it was something more. When she quirked her head slightly to the right and the ghost of a smile flitted over her lips, he knew what it was.

This was the first village she’d ever been in.

She was born in King’s Landing, and other than their trip to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral… she’d never left the city.

Something in Aemond’s heart cracked. He should have done something, taken her on adventures. He should have brought her on Vhagar and flown her wherever her heart desired.

But he hadn’t. He’d left her in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. In a cage.

But now… her first trip away from the capital was one she didn’t want to be on. It wasn’t a happy occasion. And their destination was likely the place of her worst nightmares.

He should never have let Aegon order him to bring her to Harrenhal.

Aemond opened his mouth to apologize to her again but said nothing. She had already been forced to be stuck in a wheelhouse with him for most of the day. The kindest thing he could do would be to let her alone for as long as he could.

So, he went towards the door, turning back over his shoulder to look at her for a moment. She was still watching the village. It made him smile a bit. “I’m going to get supper. I’ll be back in a short while.”

She did not say anything back. She only lifted a hand to rest on the window.

She’d hardly noticed that Aemond had left. When he told her where he was going, she had just seen a small group of children playing in the muddy road. One of the little girls had spotted her watching from the window and shouted something to her friends. Soon, all the children were staring at her. She lifted a hand to the window to wave at them.

Then, she heard the door closing, and when she turned to look, Aemond was gone.

When she looked back to the children, they had already run off. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. “Nyke urnēbagon jemī tymāt umban daor.” I cannot wait to watch you play.

Before Aemond left for Harrenhal, he had taken her back to the nursery where they’d been raised. The furniture had been covered, as neither Jaehaera nor Rhaenyra’s son Aegon were inclined toward play. Not after what they went through. So, both had moved to their own rooms when they returned to the keep.

But the nursery would not be empty for long.

Aemond had pulled away the sheet covering the toy chest and knelt before it, examining each toy as though it were a priceless jewel. He told stories about them, recalling how they had played with them, and made guesses about which ones their child would prefer and what their choices would foretell about them.

He rediscovered the two wooden dragons they had once painted and named for themselves – Kēlītsos and Balerion. There were too many tales of those little dragons to retell them all, so he told only the one where they imagined the dragons had come alive and had flown them to the ruins of Old Valyria. Aemond would slay whatever beasts had wounded Balerion and killed their great-aunt, Aerea. Then, they would reclaim their ancestral homeland.

He’d kissed her belly then, calling the babe inside the “heir of Old Valyria.”

Now, they were the heir – heirs – to something else entirely.

To a broken family.

To a throne soaked in the blood of their kin.

To the sins of their father.

For a moment, she wished they could simply be like those children, playing without a care.

But they never would be.

They would still be children. They would still play and laugh. They would be mischievous and sneak sweets from the kitchens or stay awake long past the time they were sent to bed. They would still cry for their parents when they scraped a knee or had a nightmare.

But they would also be heirs. They would be taught by the finest scholars in the world how to bear the weight of their responsibilities. They would be trained by mighty warriors on how to defend themselves from the enemies they would have since birth. They would always know that their life was never wholly theirs.

Now, they would also always know that their father had betrayed their mother. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, somehow, they would learn of Aemond’s mistress – the mother of their bastard half-sibling.

Part of her hated that child, the small thing that was not even fully formed and yet was the manifestation of all her pain.

Part of her, perhaps a larger part, pitied it.

After all, it was a bastard. The world had never been kind to bastards. After the role bastards had played in the war, she could not imagine it would grow any kinder.

What would the life of the bastard be like? Would it play the same games as her children? Would it have the same favorite toys, or foods, or colors?

While its trueborn siblings were learning to rule the realm and ride dragons, what would it do? Perhaps it would be a servant, like its mother, or become a laborer of some kind.

Would it know who its father was? Would it know the blood of the dragon ran through its veins? Would it ache for a bond with a dragon, as Aemond had? Would it spend its life feeling incomplete, yet never know why?

As she caught sight of the tears shining on her cheeks in her reflection off the window, she decided she did not hate the child. It was not at fault for the sins of its mother, or its father.

She said a brief prayer for it – for its health and happiness. Then one for her own children.

When Aemond came back through the door, carrying a tray laden with steaming food, she wiped her tears away and looked only once more out the window.

The children had gone home.

“Are you hungry, ābrazȳrītsos?” Aemond asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she knew she must eat regardless, for the sake of the babes. So, she crossed the room and sat at the small table.

She did not speak as Aemond served her the meal – fresh, steaming bread, warm stew, and a pot of tea. He did not try and get her to speak. He simply ate his food, watching her carefully.

He faded into the background as her thoughts continued to wander to that poor little child growing in Alys’ womb.

Would it have silver hair? Purple eyes? Or would it inherit its mother’s coloring, whatever it was?

She did not know what Alys looked like. She knew so little about the woman who had shared in Aemond’s sin.

Was she beautiful? Was she intelligent? Was she kind?

It was hard to imagine that she would be kind. That any woman who would lie with a married man would be kind. After all, she was called a witch. Was there such a thing as a kind witch?

Was there even such a thing as a witch?

Aemond said that he spared Alys because she could foretell the future. That the reason he’d first brought her into his bed was because she told him he needed to be calm for the battle ahead if he wished to prevail.

Prevail he did.

Were the visions real, then? Had Aemond only returned from that first battle, the second, the last, because of what Alys had told him?

If Alys were to thank for Aemond surviving the war, should she not be grateful for it? But how could she be grateful for something that had so thoroughly broken her heart?

How was she supposed to feel? How was she supposed to know what to feel? What to do?

“I want to meet her,” she said suddenly. Even her whisper sounded like an echoing shout after so long a silence.

Aemond stared at her. Fear and regret and anger in his gaze. His mouth hung open, and his skin had gone deathly pale.

“Alys,” she clarified. “I want to meet her.”

“My love, please. You don’t.” His voice quavered like a rose in a thunderstorm. “I don’t want you to, it won’t – ”

“I have questions for her. I will ask them.” Tears fell down Aemond’s cheeks, but he did not argue. It almost made her smile. “You may be there if you wish. But I will meet her.”

Aemond nodded. “If that is what you truly want.”

She felt no fear or hesitation. “It is.”

After she finished her meal, her exhaustion finally settled upon her. It had only been a day since Aemond returned to the Red Keep. Only a day since both the war and her world ended.

She just wanted to sleep. In that moment, it was all she wanted.

She had Aemond turn away as she undressed and donned her nightgown. He obeyed, staring into the fire and never once looking back until she was beneath the rough-spun blankets on the bed and gave him permission.

He only removed his leather doublet and his boots before settling onto the couch by the fire, its high back blocking them from each other’s view.

The fire crackled.

“Good night, ābrazȳrītsos,” Aemond said. “Sleep well. I love you.”

She did not reply.

She so badly wanted to sleep. But it seemed both her body and the babes in her belly wanted otherwise. No matter how she lay, she could not find comfort. No matter what she thought of, her mind would not calm.

At least she took comfort in that her restlessness was likely preventing Aemond from finding sleep as well.

When she heard his voice again, she stiffened, preparing herself to argue with him again. But Aemond did not speak.

He sang.

“Bantis ropatas Night has fallen

Yn zūgagon daor But do not fear

Sȳndror ilos daor There is no darkness

Kesrio syt drakarys vamiot ilzai. For dragonfire is near.”

It was a lullaby. One he had discovered in an Old Valyrian children’s book he found in the back of the Red Keep’s library. He had sung it to her when she was still in her crib so he could practice their ancestral language.

He stopped singing for some time when his voice settled, adjusting to the new, lower pitch. But when he began again, it was even more beautiful than before. Quiet and soft, but still beautiful.

“Yn ozelēnagon daor And shiver not

Vasīr vēzos hembistas Though the sun has gone

Drakarys kesīr ilzai Dragonfire is here

Aōhi dijaves rāelagon. To keep you warm.”

When was the last time he sang to her? Obviously not in the past six months, but when?

“Aōhi bartos mazilībās Lay down your head

Se aōhī laehossa lēdes And close your eyes

Drakarys avy mīsilza Dragonfire will protect you

Yn sepār kesan. And so too will I.”

Ah, her eyes welled with tears when she finally remembered. It had been the first night after they learned they were to have a babe, and Aemond had bedded her more passionately than he had since their wedding night and more gently than he had ever been.

He sang when they were spent, and she curled into him to sleep. Aemond brushed his fingers in light patterns over her belly and sang. But was that for her or the babe?

The last time he had sung for her and only her… she could not recall. It had been some ordinary day when she did not know she should hold onto that memory and keep it close. She did not know it was a memory she would need when Aemond went to war.

“Dōnī ēdrurī emilās, ñuha raqno Dream sweetly, my love

Bantio rȳ ēdrūs Sleep all through the night

Nyke aōma unna I will be with you

Vapār ōños arlī amāzīlza. Until again there is light.”

She wanted to be angry at him, accuse him of only singing now so he could worm his way back into her heart. But she knew that accusation would be false. After the way he fussed over her today, she knew he was truly worried for her health – and the health of the babes.

Besides, his voice and the familiarity of the song were now truly lulling her to sleep.

She was grateful for it.

“Skorī ñāqes kesīr ilos When morning is here

Se īlvon geron vamiot ilza And our journey is nigh

Īlon henkirī īlvī zaldrīzī kipili We will both mount our dragons

Sepār, sōvīlā.” Then, we will fly.”

Her last thought before her eyes slid closed was that she hoped he had not sung the lullaby – their lullaby – to Alys or her child.

Aemond woke to the sound of something crashing. He was immediately awake, throwing off his blanket and bolting to his feet. But he saw no one.

What he did see was an empty bed.

In an instant, his panic had risen to a peak it had reached only once before – the day he’d found out that his half-sister and her husband had taken King’s Landing, and in the aftermath, Aegon was missing and his ābrazȳrītsos was now in the hands of his enemies.

A horrible retching soon alerted him to his wife’s presence on the floor of the room, halfway between the bed and the washbasin against the far wall. But it did not quell his panic.

She was panting between harsh bouts of sickness, her arms trembling as they struggled to hold her up. Aemond moved immediately, kneeling beside her and sweeping her hair away from her face. His words of comfort and concern died instantly when he felt her lean against him.

She was so thin.

Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat, allowing him a clear and horrible view of every knob on her spine and curve of her ribs. The further she pressed into him, the more he could feel the sharp planes of her shoulder blades and the sickening lightness of her form. She was like some of the near-corpses he’d seen in the war – hardly more than skin stretched taut over mere bones.

He had not seen it before. She’d been bundled in robes and gowns and furs. And when she changed into her nightgown earlier this evening, she had not allowed him to look at her until she was buried beneath the blankets.

She knew.

She knew how frail she was. He knew and had not wanted him to know…

Had not wanted him to worry. Not while he was at war.

“Ābrazȳrītsos…”

She sobbed once before she was sick again. He said nothing else until he was relatively certain whatever illness had possessed her passed, and tried not to be too grateful that she didn’t push him away.

“Little darling, please,” he pulled her closer so he could rest against his chest. She did not resist. “What happened?”

She shook her head, reaching to wipe her mouth with the sleeve of her nightgown. Aemond stopped her, set her hand back on her lap, and used his own sleeve instead. She sighed as if the gesture somehow upset her, then slumped slightly. “Nothing happened. Nothing new, at least. This happens nearly every night.”

Every night. No wonder she was so thin.

“Still?” Aemond finally managed to ask in a rasping voice. She had been so sick in those early days – it was what had prompted them to take her to the Maesters, where they discovered she was with child. But it had gotten better in the days before he left for Harrenhal. She had said it was getting better.

She nodded, her eyes shut tight as she turned away from him. Was it from exhaustion or shame? “It…” she swallowed, and Aemond realized how dry her throat must be. He would fetch her something to drink as soon as she could stand. “It never stopped.”

“Oh ābrazȳrītsos…” his voice broke as the realization of how badly she had been suffering sank in. And all the while, he’d been sharing his bed with another woman.

If the Father truly cared for justice, he would have struck Aemond dead the moment he touched that witch.

Aemond held her close, panting with the effort it took to hold back his tears of shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She was silent for a long while. Then, “I’m tired, Aemond.”

“I know.”

A long pause. It took him longer than it should have to realize she was looking at him and longer still to recognize the plea in her eyes. She wanted his help. Or perhaps more accurately, needed his help.

So help her he did, eagerly. He sat her at one of the chairs by the table while he removed her soiled nightgown and dressed her in another. He brought the washbasin to her so he could help her wash her face, then brought her a pitcher of fresh water so she could rinse her mouth. He braided her hair once more and carried her back to bed,

Once he’d pulled the blankets back over her, he reached out to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he softly stroked her cheek. “Is there anything else I can get you, my love?”

She opened her eyes just slightly. “I’m cold.”

He turned on his heel to fetch his blanket from the couch. There was still warmth radiating from the hearth. He could move to the rug.

But when he’d settled that blanket on her as well, she opened her eyes wider and gazed up at him. “Aemond…”

If there was ever proof that the gods could be merciful, that was it.

Still, he had to be certain he wasn’t mistaken. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. Thank all the gods in the world, she nodded.

His veins buzzing with ecstatic joy, he walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. As he wrapped his arms around her, it almost didn’t matter that he could feel her frailness, that he knew she had only asked this because she truly was cold, or that his touch was tainted by his sins.

Aemond was sharing a bed with his wife. He was holding her. Her, and their children.

When her breathing finally settled, and she drifted off to sleep, Aemond closed his eyes, tucked his face into her hair, and prayed he dreamt of a world where he had slain Alys the moment he first saw her.

669 notes · View notes

fan-goddess · 2 years ago

Note

Helloooo love! I'm a fan lurking in the dark with a request idea for Aemond x Reader. Would love to see your take on Aemond trying to win Reader back (his wife) after she found out about Alys. Maybe this happens after the "Dance" , Aemond survives and they have to deal with the aftermath of Alys. Reader loved him with everything she had so she feels betrayed and turns cold to him and maybe because of Alys, something also happened to her (idk lost pregnancy perhaps but PLEASE exclude this if you don't feel comfortable writing it). Basically take everything you find interesting from this request and work your magic - I trust you like no other!!! Thank you I send you all the love there is - you are very very talented and please know there are many like me that think you are truly brilliant, I know it!!! :*:*

Authors Note: Oh my god thank you this is so freakin sweet! 🥺 I’m happy to take the request and spin my take on this, hope you enjoy it! :)

Also, some of the stuff Is made up like the time between Daemons death and end of the war. I don’t know it so I made it up. If you don’t like it take it up with my dms

Word count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cheating, miscarriage though it’s not explicit, she’s kinda depressed? Not sure how to describe it,

Taglist: @blue-serendipity

The Sequels: The Depressive one, The happy One

—————

If Aemond ever regretting not killing anyone throughout the war he technically started, most would’ve immediately assumed that he wished he never killed his nephew. Though they were wrong. Yes, Lucerys’ death became one of the many causes of the war and in turn deaths of so many people, but his death didn’t result in the loss of you and your child.

Alys’ death could’ve though.

When he first met Alys, he had been nearly immediately enraptured and enamoured by had. She was quite different to you. While you had always been headstrong and never afraid to tell Aemond what he needed to do or to be, Alys had been more docile and had no issue in telling Aemond all the things he wanted to hear.

He regretted the first time he laid with Alys in his bed. Though that regret went away the more time he spent with her and the more times he laid with her. He begun to think of possibly taking after Aegon the conqueror, thinking he’d have both you and Alys by his side when Aegon most likely drank himself to death.

That fantasy was soon ruined when he got that letter.

Dear Aemond,

Do you think of me as a fool? I know about that fucking woman Aemond. I know about Alys. I don’t know why you have decided to betray our marriage and honestly, I don’t think care I can bring myself to think about it nor care anymore. This letter was originally going to be happy. A letter letting you know what we prayed near everyday from the seven had finally come true and been answered. I was with child. Our child made purely of what I had thought was love. Though that changed when I was informed of what you had done. I mourned for what we could’ve had. I cried and refused to believe it at first, though soon I came to my senses. Yet it was too late. Our child is dead Aemond. I woke up a few days ago to heavy blood staining our bedsheets. The child was barely two months according to the maester. I wish for you to know it is your fault Aemond. I do not wish to ever see you again. I wish to never hear from you so if you attempt to reconcile or send a letter I will pay for our child’s blood with your own. You have dug your grave Aemond. Don’t try and dig it deeper. If you are to die in battle, I hope it is painful. I hope you suffer like I have.

From, your wife

From your former wife

Aemond had felt his heart plummet to the floor when he read that letter. He could not stop the tears that fell to the floor and stained the letter he still was holding. The ink blotting and staining the page so much the words were becoming near illegible.

He attempted to head into battle with the faint hope that you’d forgive him if he killed his uncle. Though even he knew deep down that no amount of deaths could fix anything. Yet even still he tried. He defeated Daemon, with blood of which Targaryen man he did not know staining and pooling on his ripped armour.

Aemond came home where he was met with his mother and brother, who both congratulated him on his victory. Though even with their congrats he could see the disgust that lingered in his mothers gaze as she looked at him. It made his shame all that more prominent.

He would’ve gone to see you, but Aegon stopped him before he could, claiming he was holding a feast in his name for the defeat of Daemon. He tried to look for you in the amount of people that came, yet he couldn’t. And he didn’t dare ask his mother if you would be coming in fear of her glare and disappointment.

That night he wonders something. Maybe it would’ve been better if he did die by the hand of his uncle? Then it would’ve saved him from all this torture. Though he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Aemond can only wallow in his drinks that he keeps being given and his own sorrow.

Aemond was back home. The words the maids said echoed in your head. He’s here, and no doubt going to attempt to reconcile. If there was one thing you ever learnt about your husband, was that he never quit at anything he started.

You already made bets with yourself on how he’d attempt to do it.

Maybe he’ll try flowers? No that’s too much of a common move for Aemond to pull… Maybe he’ll bring you some jewellery? No that’d make him feel like he was buying for your forgiveness. Like he was buying something for a mistress. Well… he’s been there and done that…

There is always the chance Aemond will not even attempt to reconcile. Hopefully becoming too overcome by the grief and pain of the loss of his and your child that he’d respect your wishes after reading your own pain on paper. The maids still look at you worriedly, especially when they find you sitting near the window. You know why they worry, you mourned Helaena and Jahaerys and you know you will not become like her.

Aegon was also the one who told you about Alys, and when you lost your child and screamed for the whole of the castle to hear, it was Aegon who ran to you to mourn with you and hold you while you cried for a life you may have been able to have. He held you in the way a brother would hold a sister. He even cried with you and helped clean you of the blood. Oh the blood…

———

It’s been a few long months, but the war between the greens and the blacks is finally over. Aegon is celebrating by holding a massive banquet and all the lord and ladies who supported him are invited. Even though Aemond knows it will not happen, he secretly hopes you will come to celebrate.

Though as he keeps sneaking glances at the door all night he eventually comes to term with the fact you’re not coming. He can only swallow more bitter wine and ignore the fact he’s drinking it like a fish in water now.

He’s attempted to reconcile from a distance ever since the incident but everything he has sent to your chambers has come back in shreds. The flowers from the garden you loved to look after, heads torn from their stems and cut into a thousand pieces. The books he sent on your favourite topic, you had more restraint on them and simply chucked them from your window onto unsuspecting bystanders bellow.

Aegon told him delightfully how after he delivered the books to you, they were seen immediately thrown from the window and one had supposedly managed to hit one knight straight on the head, effectively knocking him out cold.

Though if anything those small acts of defiance made Aemond wish to reunite and return to you even more. It reminded him just why he fell in love with you in the first place. Your wit and your wisdom made him fall head over heals for you, literally.

He had tripped in front of you and some other ladies of the court due to the load of books he was carrying. He had not yet gotten used to the visual impairments the loss of his eye provided and did not see the thrown goblet in his path. Aemond had effectively turned scarlet when the ladies began to mockingly giggle at him, it nearly made his heart beat straight from his chest when he saw you come to his help. “You need to get some help with those. It’s not that bad to ask for help you know? Means you aren’t a stubborn twat.” You grin.

He wished he could go back to those days. They were simpler. They held no knowledge of the war they would face. It held no knowledge of the bastard from Harrenhal.

Aemond had not tried to reunite with you in person. He knew you’d most definitely follow through with your threat and spill his blood. It’s why he attempted to send you items instead through the maids. Though it’s very obvious those weren’t working either. That’s when he got the idea to write you letters. There was easily a chance that you would burn them or tear them the moment you saw the writing. Yet even then Aemond knew he had to try…

———

“Princess. I have another item sent from the prince for you.” One of the maids said as she carefully approached your bed. The sun had already hit its peak that day, though you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. The only time you could bring yourself too was either with the help of your maids, or when Aemond sent a supposed gift to you which you’d immediately destroy.

“What is it this time?” You sigh. “Is it something that I am supposed to eat? Because if it is i’d like it if you took to the servants quarters and give it to them and not-“

“It’s not food related my princess. It’s a letter.” When you look towards the maid you can see the sad expression clear on her face. This maid has brought you many of Aemonds attempts at reconciliation.

“What is your name?” It does not give you any sort of pleasure when the maid looks shocked at the fact a princess is asking for the name of a maid. “Its not a trick question I want to know your name.”

“Klarisa my princess. My name is Klarissa.”

“Klarisa do you think I should read the letter my bastard of a husband as written to me?” You look carefully at Klarisas face, the decision of your lifetime hanging in a mere maids hands.

“To be honest with you my lady…” Klarisa takes a deep breath and puts on a sympathetic face. You appreciate that she wishes to give you honesty, though that sympathetic face makes you want to punch her. “What the prince did was inexcusable after the way the two of you acted before… her. You got to have a husband who loves you and cared for you, that itself is much more than most of the women who are forced into a marriage can hope for. The prince is trying to make up for it and is also respective your boundaries. Not many could say that they got to have a husband who did even one of those things. So yes my princess, I believe you should read the letter.” You take a deep breathe and loosen your hands, which seemed to have clenched so tightly your nails all but pierce into your palms.

“Give me the letter then leave. If you see the prince, do not tell him that you for once got me to think about even looking at his weak apologies. Just put your head down, and walk away. Do you understand Klarisa?”

“Yes my princess.” Klarisa moves swiftly to the doors to your chambers, opening it and moving forward, only to stop for a moment and turn on her heels towards to. “I hope you get what it is you seek my princess. For your own sake.” She turns back to the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone with the letter in your hand which already feels like it’s burning you. Yet you prevail, and slowly open the letter to read it.

Dear ñuha jorrāelagon,

I will not waste my breath in attempting to gain your forgiveness. I know better than anyone that when you stick your mind to something you keep it that way. Though what I will say is the truth, which I know will hurt you and anger you more than anything but i know it’s what you wish to hear.

Alys was a woman I believed to be falling in love with. She was something what I believed I needed in my life. A woman to be docile and to whisper all the things I needed to hear in my ear. Though after your letter, it became my wake up. I cut off all contact with Alys after realising how much I hurt you. I regret that woman everyday I have not been with you. You are the only woman I need to be with. I love that you are not docile and will not take any man’s shit (as you so clearly and often tended to put it). I love that you challenge me and encourage the debates we so often hold. I love you Rhaella, more than any woman before in my life. I’m sorry it took another woman and the life of our child for me to realise it. I understand wholeheartedly if you wish to never speak to me again. But I hope with this letter, if you ever do decide to read this, which after all my other attempts seem unlikely, you at least know that there will not be a single day that I do not wish that I did not kill that woman when I killed all the other strongs. You are my life. My world. And I hope you know that.

From, Aemond Targaryen

You’ve never felt like you wanted to cry this much since you lost your sweet baby. You can feel the tears leaking down your face the entire time you read Aemonds words. Some of your tears drip onto the page, leaving some of the words to blur together into illegible blobs of black ink.

You feel the urge to destroy the letter. The same urge and desire you felt when you got into contact with all of Aemonds other gifts. Though you resist this time, and instead of destroying the letter, you smooth it out and place it delicately under the mass amounts of pillows that seem to always near take over your bed. That night, for the first night of the many you’d stayed in your room during your isolation period, you slept the whole night in your bed with no nightmares to wake you screaming.

———

When Aemond was standing in the corridor in the shadows and hadn’t picked up on any whispers from the maids passing him of any destruction or damage coming from your chambers, he assumed you must have kept the letter.

He does not hold though any hope that you read it. For all he knows you’ve simply just ignored it or ripped it and used it to keep your fire alight.

When he is waiting for the maid to come out of your room though, he could not help but feel hopeful when the maid takes longer than usual to come out of your room. “Well?” He asks as he steps from the shadows when the maid eventually comes out and nearly passes him. He does not dare to actually ask whether or not you took it. Even though he so selfishly wish to help hold her down and demand for

It surprises him and angers him when the maid looks at him and yet does not acknowledge him. What did you tell her? What does she know?

Aemond grabs the arm of the maid as she attempts to pass him without any real acknowledgment. “Your prince asked you a question.” He growls. He nearly felt sympathy for the woman when she looked at him with fear in her eyes. But he is not Aegon. He can control his desires towards the maids.

“The princess asked that I not speak to you. Please let go of my arm, my prince…” The maid half begs. Aemond lets go of her arm reluctantly after a moment of thinking. Why would you tell the maid to not talk to him? Maybe you really read the letter and do not wish to appear weak to him? Though only if you knew that you could never be weak in his eyes, his strong independent wife.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen #the death of a life au

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bloodlust-1 · 10 months ago

Note

Might I make a request for subby Gortash? I want that man on his knees, begging.

-@thewildrover

To answer this, hell yes. Im here for it give me all that freaky mean shit. Let's get into iiitttt!!!

hope you like it @thewildrover !

On His Knees

Gortash x fem Tav — Explicit 18+

Summary: After waking up to find himself bound on his knees, Gortash realizes he is at the mercy of Tav's wrath. However, her anger quickly transforms into seduction as she manipulates him with her charms. Left with nothing but his desire to please her, Gortash is determined to make her his by any means necessary.

T/W: smut! Blood, abuse

Notes: This is a little raunchy so if that's what you're into then by all means ;p he’s subby for the first half

Gortash eyes fluttered open, and he groaned to the throbbing headache and aching joints. He was on his knees, hands and feet bound to a pillar in the center of a dimly lit room.

How the fuck did I get here?

Confused and disoriented, Gortash tried to recall how he got there. The last thing he remembered was the way the alcohol burned his throat at the tavern earlier that day. He must've blacked out.

footsteps echoed around him, and when the figure came closer, Gortash's heart skipped a beat. It was a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She had long dark hair, smooth curves, and a stern expression on her face.

Tav, stood over him, with her eyebrows furrowed. Interesting, he thought she sided with Orin.

"Why am I tied up like this?" Gortash demanded, trying to sound confident and unfazed.

"You are a despicable excuse for a human being, Gortash," Tav spat, her voice filled with disgust. "You have caused so much pain and suffering, and now it's time for you to pay for your crimes."

Gortash couldn't help but laugh at Tav's words. He had always been attracted to strong, powerful women, and Tav was no exception. Seeing her standing there, with her hands on her hips, only made him more excited.

"Is that so?" he teased, dripping with sarcasm. "And what punishment do you have in mind for me, my dear Tav? Are you going to beat me to a pulp?"

Tav rolled her eyes and shook her head. Gods he is such a fucking scoundrel.

"You think this is funny? You think it's amusing to mock me?" Tav snapped, her voice trembling with frustration.

Gortash's laugh died down and a grin tugged at his lips. He continued to ridicule Tav between chuckles. Gortash couldn't help himself. The more she scolded him, the more turned-on he became.

Tav walked towards Gortash, and gripped a handful of his hair, "I heard your plans to get rid of me. How dare you ever try to lay a hand on me and my friends," she said, her voice low and menacing.

Gortash's heart raced as Tav leaned in closer, her face just inches away from his. He could feel her breath on his skin, and it sent shivers down his spine.

Tav clenched her fists and threw a punch at his face, and she continued to mercilessly beat him. Blood streamed down his face, mixing with the sweat that dripped from his forehead.

Gortash could just groan as her fists connected to his face.

Gortash licked his lips and smiled up at Tav. There was a seductive glint in his eyes, a look that sent shivers down Tav's spine. Tav pulled back her raw bloodied fists as she studied his face.

Was he enjoying this?

And there it was, the bulge in his pants.

The frown, the passion in her voice, her eyes, and fuck why did this turn him on so much. Gortash didn't expect Tav to be so beautifully enraged.

Tav smirked, he was just another pathetic sex-driven man. Of course, he's attracted to her, and she decided to use it to her advantage.

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in a different way," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear.

Gortash's heart skipped a beat as Tav's words sent a wave of desire through him. The bulge in his pants twitched in anticipation.

As Tav pulled away, Gortash grinned. He had always been a troublemaker, and it seemed like he had finally found someone who could bring up his cock.

"Do your worst, pussy," Gortash scoffed threw the slick of blood that streamed down his face. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Without warning, she lunged forward and pressed her lips against his, tasting the metallic tang of blood mixed with alcohol. Gortash responded eagerly, his hands straining against the ropes that bound him. The sudden ache between her thighs and the thrill of it all clouded her better judgment.

Tav pulled away from the kiss with a sharp gasp, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She looked down at Gortash, his tired eyes pierced her own. Tav stepped back and circled around him, her hands running over the ropes that bound him.

"I saw your lingering look," Tav's voice echoed off the stone walls. "The longing in your eyes the day we met." Tav paused, her gaze fixed on Gortash's face. She could see the confusion and desire in his eyes as he struggled against the ropes.

His skin started to become raw from his constant tugging.

Tav then put her foot on his shoulder and pushed, forcing Gortash's back to press against the hard pillar. He winced in pain, but his eyes never left Tav's.

"I know you want me," Tav continued, her voice dripping with seduction. "But I also know that you're not the kind of man who gives in easily." She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear. "And that's what makes this oh-so painful for you."

Gortash's eyes widened in realization as Tav stepped back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. She began to slowly unbutton her shirt, revealing more and more of her smooth skin with each button. Gortash's eyes followed every move, his heart racing with frustration.

"Fuck, show me more..." He whispered threateningly under her watch. “I want to ruin you.”

"You see, Gortash," Tav said, her voice low and sultry. "I have a proposition for you." She leaned in close once again, her lips just inches away from his. "If you can escape from these ropes," Her finger trailed along the rope that bound him. "Then I'll give myself to you willingly."

He struggled against the ropes. Tav's words were like a challenge, and he was determined to prove himself worthy. But the constant pulling only damaged his skin more.

"Well isn't this just unfair circumstances for me. I respect that." Gortash huffed out in annoyance. No way could he unbound himself but how could he be mad at her? Dirty games were his forte.

Her shirt was just barely showing her bare chest.

"You're just begging me to fuck you." Gortash scoffed with hearts practically in his eyes. “Please just — fuck. Let me loose.”

Tav had already stepped back, a playful smile on her face. "Looks like you'll have to try harder," she teased, tossing a small pocket knife at his knees, "You'll manage to get yourself out of this mess." She finally turned to walk away.

"Tav?"

Her footsteps echoed away and Gortash kept calling out Tav's name even adding in a 'Please'. Which was something he never did.

Gortash could only watch in frustration as Tav disappeared into the darkness, leaving him tied up. But a smile spread across his face and he realized that this was just the beginning of this dangerous and thrilling game.

Tav was out and about in town on her own. She wanted to shop for new clothes until she felt someone's hand wrap around her mouth. She was pulled into an ally and the Steel Watchers conveniently guarded the entrance, blocking anyone in.

She struggled against her attacker, but his grip was too powerful.

To her surprise, it was Gortash, pinning her body against the ally's brick wall.

Gortash's arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her in place.

"You play quite the game, my dear," Gortash said, his breath hot against her neck. "And I finally have you now."

"Took you long enough, Lord Gortash." Tav mocked his name with a chuckle. Her heart raced under his hold but the excitement of challenging him was too fun.

Before she could say anything, Gortash's lips were on hers, kissing her roughly. His grip on her was strong and commanding. As he deepened the kiss, his hands roamed over Tav's body, sending shivers down her spine.

"You're mine now," Gortash growled against her lips. Tav's heart skipped a beat at his possessive words. She couldn't deny how sexy she found him in that low-cut shirt. His hands gripped her tits and ass.

Suddenly, Gortash's lips left hers and he moved down to her neck, kissing and biting her skin. Tav winced at the sharp pain, but couldn't deny moaning in pleasure. Fear and excitement coursed through her veins while Gortash continued to bruise her neck with his bites.

"You like that, don't you?" Gortash asked, his voice low and seductive. Tav could only nod in response, unable to form words as Gortash's lips and teeth continued to leave their mark on her.

Tav knew the consequences fucking Gortash but she couldn't escape his touch now. Not when she replayed their last encounter over In her head. It was so hard walking away from him that day and not fuck him.

Gortash was in Tav's head and she was in his.

Gortash reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking echoing in the ally. Tav's heart pounded in her chest and she watched him pull down his pants, revealing his thick, muscular thighs and large, erect cock.

Immediately Tav's face grew hot with intimidation by Gortash's size. Her mouth practically watered from the way it twitched every time he touched her.

Gortash turned to Tav and roughly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to him. He tugged down her pants, exposing her bare skin in such a public place. Tav could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, but she wanted this as much as he did.

Without any warning or preparation, Gortash placed his tip on the entrance of Tav's core. He pushed himself into Tav, causing her to wince in pain. She could feel his girth stretching her, and she could barely contain a whimper.

"God, you're so tight," Gortash growled.

Gortash didn't care about Tav's discomfort. He grabbed her hips, pushed her back against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

With a firm grip, Gortash began to thrust into her with a force that made her head spin. Tav could feel the roughness of his skin against hers, and she moaned out as her arms wrapped around his neck.

Tav felt herself getting lost in his forceful pumps. Gortash's rough thrusts sent waves of pleasure through her body, and she surrendered to it.

"You're mine now, Tav. Mine to do whatever I want with." He snarled, his grip on her hips tightening.

"N-nghh, fuck - y-yes-" Tav hazily agreed, completely lost in the way he pumped in and out of her.

Fuck why was she even agreeing with him?

Gortash's movements became more and more forceful, and Tav could feel herself getting closer to the edge. Just as Tav let out a breathy yelp, his lips muffled over hers.

He snaked his tongue into her mouth and tasted every inch of her tongue in desperation. Their mouths harshly clashed with each other in a messy kiss.

Gortash groaned in pleasure, and she knew he was reaching his climax from the heat that exuded off his cock inside her.

With one final thrust, Gortash released himself inside of Tav, and she could feel the warmth of his seed filling her.

Tav collapsed onto his shoulders, breathing heavily as Gortash pulled out of her.

Tav held onto his body, exhausted and satisfied, and he slowly brought her down to her feet. His skin was dampened with their mixed sweat.

He leaned down and placed a rough kiss on Tav's forehead before whispering, "You are spared for now, but I expect you to come visit me at the palace."

Tav felt both terrified and excited for what was to come.

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

I want him so bad.

#enver gortash #gortash x oc #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #tav x gortash #gortash smut #gortash x tav #gortash x reader #lord gortash #bg3 gortash #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 smut #bloodlust 1

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leiawritesstories · 2 months ago

Text

Horsey

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 5: Birthdays @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 954

Warnings: so so SO much fluff teehee

inspired by the work of @sassyhobbits. i could not resist. enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where’s the birthday girl?” Aelin crooned, pretending not to notice the big purple bow that bobbed behind Lorcan’s leg.

“I right here!” The giddy exclamation was coupled with a blur of purple silk and dark curls as newly five-year-old Marion Salvaterre Lochan launched herself into her auntie’s arms. “Hi Auntie!”

Aelin beamed and hugged her niece. “Happy birthday, Mari darling! Are you having the best day and eating all the yummy cake?” Marion nodded excitedly, clapping her little hands. She was a perfect image of her mother, but she had Lorcan’s sharp dark eyes.

“Auntie Lyssie gave me pretty bwace-wet!” The small girl proudly held out her right arm. “See?”

“Ooh, yes, very pretty.” Aelin kissed the top of Marion’s head. “Alright, honey, why don’t you go find your da? I think he’s looking for you again, birthday girl.”

“Okay!” Marion ran over to Lorcan, her little purple silk shoes pattering on the tile of the Lochan manor’s sunlit ballroom. “Hi Dada!” Lorcan lifted his daughter into his arms, whispering something that was probably disgustingly sweet into her ear. Aelin chose not to let her Fae ears pick it up.

Elide crossed the room and stopped to kiss her girl’s rosy cheeks before she came to Aelin. “Thank you so much for being here,” she said, beaming. “I know you’re terribly busy with running a kingdom.”

“She has people for that,” Rowan murmured, just loud enough for them to hear. Aelin swatted his chest, sending him a long-suffering look.

So uncivilized.

He smirked. That’s why I don’t take on court duties.

Maybe I should have commanded you to keep an eye on things while I went to my beautiful niece’s birthday celebration.

And spent half the treasury on gifts? I think not. He dodged the elbow she angled at his ribs. Ah-ah, love. I know the way you move.

She gave him a saccharine smile. As do I, buzzard, she all but purred.

Elide sighed loudly. “Will the two of you stop flirting with each other right in front of everyone’s poor eyes? It’s bad enough how disgustingly in love you are already.”

“Says the woman whose husband willingly gave up five hundred years of warrior high life to play housemaid and change diapers,” Aelin returned, winking at her dear friend.

The petite woman snorted. “Lorcan knows damn well he’s better off here than he ever would be whacking himself off in some army tent.”

“Godsdamned right I do.” Lorcan covered Marion’s eyes and bent nearly in half to kiss his wife.

Aelin groaned and covered her own eyes. “Gods above.” She tugged subtly on the blood oath before Lorcan could show her a vulgar gesture. “Now now, Salvaterre, there are children present.�� At her side, Rowan snickered, amused at Lorcan’s grumpiness.

“Why don’t we give our favorite niece her birthday present?” he suggested, smoothing over the situation before either Lorcan or Aelin could pester the other.

Marion clapped and exclaimed her excitement. “Yes yes yes! I wanna present, Unc’a Ro!”

Rowan laughed. “Alright, Mari. Should we go outside? I think there might be something out there for you.”

Led by Aelin, and with Marion still sitting comfortably in her father’s arms, the handful of them went out into the courtyard, where a small, intricately worked wooden trunk sat on the stones. Marion gasped and squirmed, and when Lorcan set her down, she ran over to the box and opened it up. Her dark eyes went huge with wonder, and she lifted a length of lavender silk and gauze out.

“It’s a pretty dress!” she screeched, jumping excitedly. “Yay!” She brought the dress to her mother, who laid it carefully over one arm, and sprinted for her aunt and uncle, who showered her with hugs and kisses before letting her go back to her favorite spot in Lorcan’s arms.

“There’s one more little present,” Aelin said, winking at Marion.

The small girl’s eyes grew even wider. “Really?”

“Really.” Aelin grinned conspiratorially. “Let’s go around the corner, shall we?” They walked towards the stables, and Rowan’s confusion crowded her mind.

What did you get her, Aelin?

Something she’ll be able to love for a very long time.

That…is not very descriptive.

Of course not. She chuckled at his confusion and grandly slid the stable doors open. “Happy birthday, my little love!” All the sets of eyes peered into the stable, and shock bolted like lightning through everyone except the queen of Terrasen.

Because there was an Asterion standing in the Lochan stables.

Elide turned slowly towards Aelin. “Did you…No, you most certainly did not. I’m dreaming.”

“Did you seriously get our daughter an Asterion?” Disbelieving, Lorcan asked the question Elide couldn’t vocalize.

“She said she wanted a pony!” Aelin shrugged. “The royal stables have been taking wonderful care of our Asterions, and this young mare is three years old, fully trained, and probably the sweetest and most evenly tempered Asterion you could ask for.”

“HORSEY!!!” Marion squealed, instantly in love with her birthday gift from Auntie Aelin.

The simple, childish, gleeful declaration made the situation seem simple. Despite Rowan’s look that screamed we will be discussing this later, even he applauded when Lorcan set Marion astride the back of the young Asterion mare, which didn’t so much as twitch at the feeling of a passenger. She was so ecstatic that Elide just shook her head as she hugged Aelin.

“You are far too extravagant, but we love you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Anything for my favorite and only niece.” Aelin had a soft, faraway look in her eyes as she watched Marion gently pat the horse’s mane, dreaming of the day one of her own children might do the same thing. “We love you too.”

~~~

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chiffxna · 1 year ago

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A Love Too Dark (01)

The Marquis Vincent de Gramont x Reader

Chapter 01 - A Deal With The Devil

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC.

This story will contain 18+ mature themes, dark romance, toxic behaviour, blood, violence, stalking, manipulation, a lot of smut, dubious consent, non-consensual content, yandere Marquis de Gramont, power play, and power imbalance, obsession, dark Marquis de Gramont, and abuse of power. The list will be added more as the story progresses. Minors, don't read.

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 02

"I have to go now, mom," Yn Ln announced to her mother.

Upon hearing her say that, anyone would envision her saying that as she prepared to leave the house and informed that to her mother who was probably cooking in the dining room or handling house chores. Her father was probably napping or watching the television. The usual situation to a healthy family with a normal life, I bet one would say.

But no. It was the complete opposite.

Yn got up from the chair and put it back under the table where she had taken it previously. She glanced at her mother in the hospital bed. The older woman was quietly watching her with a pair of tired eyes, but upon realizing her daughter was looking at her, she put on a weak smile and said, "Be careful on your way home, dear."

Yn stepped closer to her bedside and grasped her hand. She regarded her mother with a sympathetic smile, "It'd be nice if you could come back home too."

Her mother tightened her hold on her oldest daughter's hand and replied, "Soon enough, honey. Soon enough. I just need to stay in the hospital for a long while. The doctors will do their best for me, you know. Then we can go home together."

Her mother was always an optimistic person and very patient. Her kindness knows no bounds and it's what kept her going through all the pain and suffering she had to endure. It hurt Yn so much to see her lying in that hospital bed, weak and frail. Her illness had taken a toll on her body and Yn wished there was some easy, quick way to make her better, but she knew the only path was through the expensive medical treatments needed for her recovery.

As Yn let go of her hand, she gave her a small peck on the forehead and whispered, "I'll visit you again tomorrow. Take care, mom."

Yn stepped outside the hospital and called for a CarRyte. She glanced at her wristwatch, realizing it was already seven in the evening. Her worry started to grow; she had an eight o'clock shift at the casino and she needed to be punctual, knowing her employer was particular with timeliness.

Soon enough, her ride arrived fast enough for Yn. She got into the CarRyte, breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back in the seat. She closed her eyes and tried to relax but her mind was racing. She was worried about her mother and the mounting medical bills. Since her father had long deserted them, Yn was the one who had to take care of the family and was responsible for collecting enough money for her mother’s treatment.

Upon arriving at the casino, she went straight to a door on the side of the building. A notice with "No Entry" was glued to the door, though she did not heed it since she knew it was actually a door for the casino's staffs only. She then entered an empty corridor and headed straight for the staff's changing area. She was welcomed by her female co-workers who were all wearing a seductive black bunny outfit with bunny ears atop their heads. Each one had applied makeup differently - some went for a lighter look and others had gone for heavier makeup styles.

As she sat down at her table, a woman in her late twenties - already dressed up in their uniform which was the seductive black bunny outfit - approached Yn and said with an urgent tone, "Oh, Yn! Thanks God, you're finally here!"

Yn glanced at her with surprise and inquired, "Emily! What's the matter? Something happened?"

Emily suddenly placed a set of the bunny outfit on its hanger and hung it beside Yn's makeup table. Her actions were hasty and hurried which caused Yn to watch her with puzzlement. Emily paused as she gazed back at her best pal, then proceeded to shake her head in confusion before uttering, "Well? Get ready, girl! Mr. Malone told us all to finish up as soon as possible!"

That got Yn to immediately start her skincare routine while asking with urgent tone, "Oh, he did?! Why?!"

“Oh dear, you didn’t check your phone again, did you?” Emily shrugged as she hurriedly dragged a chair to sit beside her friend. She replied, "I don't know why but he did say there's something he's going to tell us. He wants us to be ready thirty minutes earlier than usual."

"Don't tell me he's going to scold all of us again," Sophia, one of their coworkers, who was sitting at her makeup table which was located next to Yn's, spoke up, apparently overhearing Emily.

"What did we do, though?" Emily said, rolling her eyes, as she began helping Yn in her makeup. She continued, "He praised us for our excellent work last night."

Emma, another coworker, stated, "Maybe he had checked the CCTV and saw Sophia sneaking a drink from behind the casino."

Sophia scoffed in response, "I wasn't sneaking! I was just taking a break and having a sip of... water."

The rest of the girls laughed in unison, knowing that Sophia just blatantly lied since there was a delay in her answer, a crystal clear sign that she was lying. Plus, she was notoriously famous among them - even Mr. Malone knew - for taking sips of alcohol behind the casino during her breaks. Yn hurriedly put on her light makeup with Emily’s help, still worried about what Mr. Malone wanted to tell them. She knew he was a strict employer but she didn't want to disappoint him, not when this was the highest paying job she'd ever gotten. Not when her mother's life depended on it.

Once Yn had done her makeup and slipped into her bunny costume, she stepped out of the staff's changing area with the other girls. They all then assembled in the casino, still devoid of customers since they hadn't opened yet.

There they saw Mr. Malone talking on the phone, seemingly anxious over something. Once he saw them, he hung up the phone abruptly without saying goodbye to whoever on the other side of the call. It was his habit to hang up curtly.

"Took y'all long enough," Mr. Malone began, "Right. I'm gathering you all here to tell you that tonight we will have a very important customer. A VVIP. A very, very important VVIP. He's rich, important, and very influential."

Some of the girls behind Yn tried to restrain their grin after hearing what their employer said. They were very much interested in this VVIP in an instant upon knowing it's a male and that he's rich. The latter added, "I want you all to cater to his needs and whatever he wants. Give your two hundred percent of excellent service for him!"

Then his voice dropped to a dangerous tone. The others knew this as a warning tone for them. He said darkly, "If I hear even one word of complaint from him about one of you, whoever it is will be fired on the spot."

Every girl instantly tensed up. Yn felt a lump form in her throat. She knew how high the stakes were. This job meant everything to her, and if she were to lose it, she wouldn't have anything to fall back on. She clenched her hands together, determined to give her best performance. She glanced around at her coworkers, who all seemed to share her anxiety. They all knew how strict Mr. Malone was, but this felt different. This felt like their livelihoods were on the line.

Mr. Malone stated, "I believe having one bunny-girl to accompany him tonight is crucial to ensure perfect service, so... Yn, would you be up for it?"

Yn was stupefied. She sensed all eyes were locked on her as she remained speechless. Mr. Malone noticed the startled look on her face and commented, "What? You accompanied a VIP last night and received nothing but praises from him. You could do the same for this VVIP tonight again, ain't cha?"

He made it sound so simple. But Yn was uneasy this time, aware that a mistake or unlucky accident might lead to her dismissal from the job she had done so well for months. Yn hesitated, unsure if she could handle the pressure of catering to a VVIP. She thought about the high possibility of losing her job and the fear of not being able to provide for her mother if she gets fired.

Suddenly, Amelia, another coworker of hers, put up her hand and spoke up, "Mr. Malone, I volunteer to accompany him, please."

All eyes, including Yn's, were thrown to Amelia. All of them were astounded and in disbelief. Mr. Malone looked at her skeptically, "Are you sure, Amelia? You've only been working here for a month. I'm not sure if you're ready for this level of service yet."

Amelia replied with confidence, "I'm sure, Mr. Malone. I'd love to take this opportunity."

Mr. Malone thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Alright then, Amelia. You'll be accompanying the VVIP as his bunny-girl tonight. The rest of you, all the other customers also deserve the best service from you. Got it?"

The girls all nodded their heads in agreement, relieved that the decision had been made and that they were not holding a huge risk of being fired above their head, though they were still under the risk if the VVIP even muttered a word of complaint about any of them.

Mr. Malone said, "That's all. Remember. Two hundred percent of excellent service. No complaint from him. Oh, and don't forget your mask, ladies."

All of them dispersed to prepare for the opening. Yn headed to the table behind the main casino and opened the first drawer. There she saw a bunch of new, plain black masks and grabbed one. Once she put it on, Amelia came up to her and said with a smile, "Hey, Yn. Could you get another one for me?"

"Sure," replied Yn as she picked one and gave it to her.

Amelia thanked her and put it on. She looked back at Yn and heaved out a sigh, saying, "Gosh, I'm nervous. I'm starting to regret volunteering."

"Hey, don't be nervous," consoled Yn, "You were confident to take on the job. Get that confidence back. You can do it, Amy."

Amelia smiled, though she could not hide the anxiety gleaming in her eyes. She then turned her body fully to face Yn and, with a soft and low tone, she said, "Umm, sorry if it seemed abrupt... like I'm taking that opportunity away from you. I just want to..."

Yn raised both of her eyebrows, awaiting Amelia to finish her sentence. The latter appeared at a loss for words, pondering on what to say next, that it gave a short delay in her sentence and made her feel awkward.

"I just want to prove that I could handle VVIPs," disclosed Amelia to Yn, "I know that Mr. Malone thinks less of me because I'm new. So I want to show him that I can do this."

Yn put her hand on Amelia's shoulder as a gesture of comfort and the former said with a soft smile, "Amy, don't overthink like that. As strict as Mr. Malone is, he is patient and he wants you to take all the time you need to improve. That's how he treated me before. He let me handle the easy tasks, then one day he suddenly said I'm ready and he told me to be a VIP's bunny-girl that night. You need to trust him and the process."

Amelia smiled at Yn, feeling a bit self-assured, though she ended up asking her, "Is it too late to back out now?"

Yn squeezed her shoulder comfortingly and responded, "Perhaps not too late, but hey. Try this opportunity first. Maybe the VVIP tonight is a good customer. You may never know."

Amelia took a deep breath, clearly attempting to soothe herself down, before she put on the mask. Yn also did the same, properly donning the mask, covering her nose and mouth with it, before she looked back at Amelia.

"You're wearing it tonight?" inquired Yn.

Amelia sent her a sly smile and said, "Yeah. Mr. Malone didn't exactly tell us who the VVIP is, so I'm wearing it just to be safe. Wouldn't want an elderly man groping me even though he's a billionaire."

Yn chuckled, "That's true. Anyway, I have to go and set the mask signs near the entrance. Good luck, Amy!"

Amelia replied back with a chirp, "You too!"

Yn went to grab a few stainless steel signage stand which depicted the mask system in this bunny casino. The signage plainly showed that there was such system here in the casino to protect the staffs and bunny-girls.

Yn brought the stands to the entrance and placed them on either side of the entrance door. She sent a smile to the casino bouncer before she looked back at the stand and read it:

Bunny-girls with mask, do not harass them in any way.

Bunny-girls without mask, may be propositioned for private rooms and physical contact with consent and tipping.

Yn took a deep breath and adjusted her bunny ears and the mask on her face, ensuring it concealed her nose and mouth properly. She then walked into the casino and helped her coworkers in preparing for the opening. Eventually, Mr. Malone opened the main door of the casino and announced its opening to everyone. Almost instantly, customers began streaming in as the music blared and the bunny-girls started attending to guests' needs.

As the night wore on, Amelia found herself concentrating deeply in her duty. She had become so preoccupied that any thought about the upcoming mysterious VVIP eventually faded from her mind. As she glanced around and checked on her fellow colleagues, it appeared that they were also busy serving and tending to the customers as well. The sense of responsibility was shared by everyone present.

Just then, Mr. Malone's voice echoed through the casino, "Attention all bunny-girls! The VVIP has arrived. I repeat, the VVIP has arrived. Please prepare to greet him at the entrance."

Yn's heart raced as she made her way to the entrance, joining the other bunny-girls as they all left the patrons they were tending to and lined up on both sides of the red carpet. She could feel the nervous energy in the air as they all waited for the arrival of the VVIP.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps growing louder against the marble floor caught Yn's attention. She glanced towards the entrance, and her breath caught in her throat as she saw a man with his bodyguards entering through the entrance.

He was tall with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. Adorned in a dashing all-white three-piece suit which was impeccably tailored to his muscular frame, accentuating every inch of his chiseled physique, he exuded an air of confidence and power that commanded attention from everyone in the casino. His piercing cold eyes looked straight ahead, briefly scanning the line of bunny-girls, including Yn.

For Yn, she was visibly transfixed and speechless at how gorgeous he was. Her mouth opened slightly as she gaped at the tall man in white. Her eyes widened and her gaze lingered on him for several seconds, unable to look away. His chiseled features and commanding presence had a captivating effect on her. The way he moved with confidence filled her with admiration and awe.

And she could tell that she was not the only one feeling the same.

Some of the bunny-girls in both queues visibly inhaled in complete awe of his stunning irresistibility. Very few even exchanged knowing glances and smiled in elation at the fact that they got a very charming customer.

"Goddamn, he's hot as fuck," whispered Emily.

Sophia joined in the hushed conversation, "Amelia is one lucky bitch."

"I know right," replied Emily, "If I knew he would be this sexy, I would have volunteered as tribute right away."

Emma chimed in a whisper with a dreamy gaze towards the VVIP, "I want to make out with him."

Emily added, "Bitch, I wouldn't just make out with him. If I have nothing to lose, I would've have knelt down in front of him by now, you know what I mean."

Those who heard her tried their hardest to refrain from chuckling. That's when Yn realized something. Most of the bunny-girls started to sneakily remove their mask. When some of them caught each other doing the same thing, they merely grinned mischievously and hid away their cloth. They were obviously hoping that they would catch the interest of the captivating VVIP.

Yn then cast her eyes onto Amelia who was supposed to be the attractive VVIP's personally bunny-girl. Her eyebrows raised at the sight of Amelia's fully revealed and blushing face. She had already removed the mask as soon as she laid her eyes on her customer. Yn chuckled inwardly in amusement.

As the VVIP strode closer to the end of the red carpet where stood Mr. Malone and Amelia, the former bowed respectfully to him and said, "The Marquis de Gramont, welcome to the Bunny Club Casino! I'm Adrian Malone, the owner of this establishment. Allow me to personally welcome you on behalf of the entire staff. If there is anything my humble establishment can provide for you, please don't hesitate to ask. This way, please."

The Marquis did not utter a word. Instead, he merely nodded his head in acknowledgment and let Mr. Malone lead him towards the luxurious VIP room. Amelia followed suit with the VVIP's bodyguards which was all clad in dark suits.

"Good luck, Amy!" Emma shouted in a whisper to Amelia, "You'll definitely need it!"

Amelia turned her head around to look back at her colleagues and sent them a thumbs-up and an excited grin, evidently feeling enthusiastic at having such dashing customer as her first personal client. She then entered the VIP room with the rest of them, disappearing from the others' view.

Yn smiled warmly, hoping that the new girl would have a great experience. She needed something to help her grow, and maybe the fact that the VVIP was quite attractive could give Amelia's self-esteem a much-needed boost.

"But oh my God!" Emily chirped to the rest of the bunny-girls, "He is the Marquis! Oh my God! The Marquis!"

"What's a 'markis'?" Emma asked innocently.

Emily sent her a silly deadpan stare and corrected her, "It's Marquis, you innocent goof. Marquis."

"That's how I said it, right?" said Emma, "Markis."

"It's Marquis," Emily then proceeded to spell it slowly for Emma. Once the latter got it, Emily added, "Anyway, a Marquis is a nobleman. And not just any nobleman, he's one of the most influential and powerful figure in all of France. It's like he's practically royalty. That means he's got the wealth, power and connections! And he's here, in our casino!"

"Yeah, no wonder Mr. Malone warned us to do our best service. It's because the VVIP is a Marquis," Sophia interjected, suddenly sounding grim out of the blue, "But hey. Now that we know who he is, I heard he's a powerful French aristocrat but he also seems to be involved with the underworld, you know. He is dangerous."

Yn was taken aback by Sophia's sudden dark comment. She had never heard anything about the Marquis. This was her first time learning and meeting him and she'd already heard of unsavory rumors about him. Sure, it's just rumors. But Sophia was known to be well-informed about the latest gossip in the casino. She couldn't help but wonder if there was any truth to her words.

"Woah, that's crazy. Is that true?" Emma asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

Sophia shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't know. Just rumors, I guess. But he's not someone to be messed with, that's for sure. Just be careful, girls."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. Don't start with the scary stories, Sophia. It's probably made by some geezer who is jealous of him. Sure, he's rich but that doesn't necessarily mean he's dangerous and is involved with crime. And we all know that not everything that people talk here is true."

Yn nodded in agreement. She didn't even want to think of any possible risk of danger tonight. Not when Amelia was with the man in question.

"Well, if Mr. Malone allows such man walk into his casino, I'm sure everything will be fine," Yn said, trying to change the subject, "In the meantime, let's focus on our duties. We don't want to keep any of our clients waiting."

The others nodded in agreement, and the bunny-girls dispersed around the casino floor, tending to the needs of their customers who were enjoying with everything the casino had to offer.

Approximately thirty minutes had passed and every staff was fully focused on their task, living up to their boss' expectation and ensuring that the customers had nothing but the best experience at the Bunny Club Casino. Yn was in the middle of serving a round of drinks when Emily appeared next to her and whispered, "Hey, you notice that Mr. Malone hasn't come out of the VIP room yet?"

Yn threw a quick glance at the door of the VIP room before she looked back at her close friend and replied, "Maybe he's discussing about something with the Marquis? He is not going to let someone as important as that getting away."

Emily snorted, "Maybe he wants to make another casino in Paris? Well, that does sound like him. But aren't you curious why the Marquis came to our casino in the first place?"

"Maybe he wants to enjoy it while he's staying in our country," Yn guessed as she picked up the glasses and used plates from a table which a bunch of patrons had just left.

"But fishy, you know," commented Emily, "But Amy is one lucky girl. Even if the Marquis is shady, he's practically sex on legs."

Yn couldn't argue on that. The Marquis was undeniably attractive. But she didn't want to think too much about someone who was way too good for her or someone who’s going to stay a stranger to her. That was how she evaded being attached to any man whom she saw no future with.

Suddenly, Emma rushed towards them, looking panicked, "Guys!"

Yn and Emily's eyes widened in surprise at her unforeseen appearance. Emma gasped out in panic before she told them, "Amy's crying! She's in the staff's changing room!"

Yn's heart sank at the news. She knew in an instant that something terrible had happened in the VIP room and unfortunately the victim of the situation was Amelia. Yn and Emily exchanged wide-eyed glances before the three of them rushed towards the changing room.

As they got closer, they could hear the sounds of Amelia's sobs getting louder. Yn's heart raced as she pushed open the door to the changing room and found Amelia sitting on a couch with tears streaming down her face. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a mess. Sophia was already by her side, consoling her to no avail apparently. Upon hearing the door opening, Amelia looked up and noticed the three girls, her eyes puffy and red.

"What happened, Amy?" Emily asked, her voice laced with concern.

Amelia sniffled and wiped at her eyes before finally speaking up, "It's the Marquis..."

She delayed as she took a shaky breath, somehow not breathing properly due to her crying fit. Sophia started rubbing her back up and down as Yn, Emily and Emma stayed standing before them.

Amelia's voice was scratchy and strained, broken up by her gasps and sobs, as she tried to explain, "I was standing by the sofa while he was talking with Mr. Malone. Then... he saw that huge wall painting in that VIP room. You guys know what I'm talking about, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Emma, "There is a huge abstract art in that room. Yn actually brought that."

Yn nodded her head, recognizing which painting that was and wordlessly admitting that it was that same painting she had given Mr. Malone one month ago.

Amelia spoke up, "Yes, that. The Marquis stared at it and he didn't even listen to Mr. Malone's offer to collab together. Then he spoke about how that abstract painting is full of meaning and whatever it is. And I laughed. Suddenly, he looked at me but he seemed angry. It's like I offended him but I didn't! I just snorted!"

She continued, "Then, while he's glaring at me as if I'm a cockroach, he said to Mr. Malone that a collab with this casino would be stupid since he's hired someone uneducated like me to work here!"

Amelia's face crumpled in fresh tears as she buried her face in her hands. Her sobs intensified as she recounted the Marquis' words, causing Sophia to rub her back even harder. The rest of the bunny-girls in the room were speechless.

Yn felt a lump form in her throat as she thought about the Marquis' arrogance and his ability to make Amelia feel so small. She knew that the Marquis was a powerful man who had a reputation for being difficult to deal with, but she never thought that he would be so cruel to someone who could not control herself from laughing.

Emily moved to sit next to Amelia on the couch and put her arm around her, "Don't listen to him, Amy. He's just a snob. You're talented and smart. You don't need his approval."

"But... but..." Amelia stammered while sniveling, "What about Mr. Malone? The Marquis ridiculed me. He complained about me. Mr. Malone would fire me! I don't want to lose this job! Even if I have to dress in this sexy bunny costume, it pays well! We get tips every day! I can't lose this!"

Yn's heart sank as she watched Amelia break down further. She knew how desperate Amelia was for this job and how much it meant to her. Like Yn, she also came from a family with financial problem. Yn couldn't let the Marquis' rude behavior ruin everything for Amelia.

"We won't let that happen, Amy," Yn said, her voice firm and full of conviction. "We'll talk to Mr. Malone. We'll make sure he knows that the Marquis was the one out of line and that you don't deserve to be treated that way."

Amelia looked at Yn with tear-filled eyes, hope shining in her gaze. Sophia nodded her head in agreement and Emily joined in saying, "Yeah, forget about him. He's a fuckwad! And we'll convince Mr. Malone for you!"

Yn, Sophia, and Emily exchanged determined glances, all agreeing to help Amelia in any way they can. Without even discussing it properly, they knew with a glance that they would altogether rush into Mr. Malone's office and persuade him forcefully. Seeing the overwhelming support from her friends, Amelia wiped away her tears and smiled warmly at them, the first one in a while.

"Thank you..." Amelia said, her voice filled with sincere gratitude, as she looked down and wiped the dried tears on her cheeks.

Yn smiled back at her, "We are here for you, Amy. You may not get to see Anita. She recently quitted as a bunny-girl but she kept telling us that bunny-girls stick together and help each other out. That's exactly what we're going to do."

Amelia's smile widened as she stared at Yn. The dense, oppressive atmosphere in the room suddenly dispersed, replaced with an uplifting sense of camaraderie and support as they all shared a moment of unity and solidarity. They all knew that no matter what, they would always have each other's backs.

Suddenly, the door to the changing room was pushed open. They looked to see it was Rachel, another bunny-girl who was not close with them. Rachel observed them for a moment, sensing that some drama had transpired. She then noticed the puffy and red eyes of Amelia and her smudged makeup. Understanding dawned in her head, knowing that something bad had happened while Amelia was serving the VVIP.

She didn’t ask for any detail. Instead, she turned to someone else and informed, "Yn, Mr. Malone called for you at the VIP room."

With that, she spun around and left the dressing room. Everyone was quiet after her statement, taking some time to process what they had heard. A nervous energy filled the air.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open again and Rachel came in halfway, looking at them. She then added, "Now."

That seemed to snap everyone out of their trance and Yn glanced at her friends, noticing the uneasiness on their face. Amelia seemed particularly worried for her. Knowing there was no escape from the predicament, Yn took a deep breath. She then excused herself before heading out with Rachel away from the changing room.

Once they arrived at the door of the VIP room where bodyguards were stationed, Rachel left, leaving Yn to prepare herself for what's about to come. The latter took a moment to compose herself, even checking if the mask on her face was properly put on, before pushing open the door and letting herself in quietly.

Black and gold furniture dominated the room with velvet sofas and chairs; a grand chandelier hanging in the center. Gleaming golden accents adorn the walls and luxurious rugs ran across the floor. The whole ambiance was regal, hinting at sophistication and power; the lighting was dimmed, creating an intimate atmosphere.

There she saw the Marquis de Gramont, standing in front of the huge abstract painting. Even the way he stood screamed power and confidence. His eyes were fixated on the gigantic wall art as if it was an entity he wanted to understand. It was that moment Yn figured that the Marquis was a person who truly appreciated and cherished art which explained why he spoke lowly of Amelia for laughing at a painting.

"Psst!"

She threw a glance at the source of the sound and realized it was Mr. Malone. He gestured for her to come closer to him. Once she did, he whispered at her with a reprimanding tone, "Yn, take over Amelia's place! She couldn't keep her mouth shut and the Marquis is pissed! Now do your job and get his desserts from the kitchen!"

In an instant, Yn rushed off to the kitchen to get the desserts which the Marquis had requested. The delicacies were ready to serve by the time she arrived so she wasted no time, snatching them up from the counter before scurrying back to the VIP room.

As she opened the door, she heard multiple voices in the VIP room. It was the Marquis and Mr. Malone conversing and the subject was apparently about more paintings in the establishment.

"Yes, I agree!" Mr. Malone sounded enthusiastic of the idea, but for those who knew him well like Yn, she knew it was just a facade to make the Marquis happy. Mr. Malone continued, "That's an amazing idea! Aesthetic paintings all over the casino would surely liven up the space! If you want, you could recommend suitable paintings for my humble establishment!"

The Marquis turned around after staring at the abstract painting for so long. He strode back to sit down on the black and gold sofa. Yn took another deep breath before she approached him with a tray of desserts in her hand.

The Marquis didn't even look at her when she approached him. He was too engrossed staring at the abstract painting again while absentmindedly listening to Mr. Malone who was trying his best to flatter the Marquis and keep him happy. Yn surmised that he was a man of refined taste and didn't like to be disturbed when he was deep in thought so she took extra care not to make any noise as she set the tray of desserts down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Art evokes emotions and enhances the atmosphere," the Marquis spoke up, rendering Yn speechless as this was the first time she heard him speak. His French accent was clear and distinct. It actually made him sound intelligent and intimidating. He added while Yn was carefully placing his desserts on the table, "It's crucial to display more paintings in a casino. It creates a captivating and immersive environment for patrons to enjoy."

"Such beautiful words, sir!" crowed Mr. Malone, "I see that you really appreciate art and beauty, and I couldn't agree more. I am honored to have you see my establishment!"

The Marquis didn't respond. Instead, while Yn was arranging the placement of the desserts on the table, he reached out to grab one of them without glancing at her. He took a small scoop, savoring the flavor.

Yn got up to her full height and walked away to stand by the side of the sofa the Marquis was sitting on. That's when he gestured to the abstract painting which he had been staring non-stop and inquired Mr. Malone, "I like this. Where did you buy this?"

Yn tensed up and Mr. Malone stuttered, a bit taken aback by the sudden question. He sneaked a glance at Yn and responded, "Umm... I did not buy it, sir. My staff here, Yn, actually handed this to me for my birthday."

He even gestured to Yn as he disclosed how he had gotten the painting. Suddenly, the Marquis lifted his head and looked at Yn properly for the first time. She stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She stayed mute, choosing to stare at the floor to not make eye contact with the Marquis so as not to offend him. She could feel his piercing gaze on her as he looked her up and down, taking in every detail about her.

For a moment, the Marquis said nothing. He continued to stare intently at Yn, making her feel uneasy. She could feel the intensity of his gaze and it made her skin crawl.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Marquis spoke up, "Yn. And your last name?"

Yn's heart skipped a beat as the Marquis addressed her. She took a deep breath before responding in a low voice, "Ln, sir."

The Marquis nodded slowly in response, his eyes still glued on her figure. The deep resonance of his voice seemed to linger in the air as he enunciated her full name as if savoring the taste of it on his tongue, "Yn Ln."

Yn subconsciously looked at him as her whole name was mentioned. She then made eye contact with him. His eyes were deep pools of darkness that seemed to drink in her very soul. It was an intimidating yet mesmerizing sight and she felt as if time had stopped and all was silent around her.

Then, as if feeling shocked and in disbelief at what she did, she swiftly looked away, staring hard at the floor as she prayed inwardly that she did not screw anything up.

The Marquis smirked to himself, amused by Yn's reaction. He then took another bite of the dessert on the tray and leaned back on the sofa, his eyes still fixed on her.

His voice was smooth and velvety as he said, "That painting is impressive. Who is the painter?"

Yn could not help but feel like he was testing her and what she knew of the painting. She cleared her throat before responding softly, "It is Wassily Kandinsky."

The Marquis nodded thoughtfully, still staring at Yn intently, "Ah, Kandinsky. I figured. I've always found his work to be intriguing. The use of color and shape to evoke emotion is quite remarkable."

He finally tore his gaze away from Yn, shifting them to Mr. Malone who was standing anxiously next to the sofa the Marquis was occupying. The latter told him with an air of authority and power, "I want more paintings like this in the casino. Find me more of Kandinsky's works or any other abstract art that you think would fit the atmosphere here."

"Certainly, sir," Mr. Malone responded, "Does that mean you agree to have my business under your wing? Twenty percent cut for you?"

Yn's eyes widened as she silently observed. Hearing that, she then had an inkling of the true purpose the Marquis came to the casino.

The Marquis suddenly stated with a small smirk, "Forty for me."

Mr. Malone's face fell in disbelief at the Marquis' counteroffer. "Forty? But sir, please reconsider. This casino-"

The Marquis leaned forward on the sofa with his hands still holding the desserts, his eyes turning sharp and cold as he spoke in a low, menacing tone, "Do not question my terms, Adrian Malone. If you want my protection, forty it is."

Mr. Malone was nonplussed. The VVIP stared at him with a smug look before he added, "Unless you want to increase my cut to fifty."

Mr. Malone swallowed hard, knowing that he had no choice but to agree. "Of course, sir. Forty it is."

The Marquis leaned back on the sofa, grinning smugly, feeling satisfied with Mr. Malone's compliance, "Then we have a deal, Malone."

He turned his attention back to his delicacies and scooped a spoonful of ice cream. He closed his eyes and savored the sweetness, relishing the taste as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Yn watched him silently. There was a certain air of mystery surrounding him that screamed danger. She couldn't help but feel intimidated and scared of him, even though he was tasting the desserts like a child.

Suddenly, the Marquis opened his eyes and looked at her. She felt a shiver run down her spine as he caught her staring. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile as he said, "Would you like some?"

Yn averted her gaze meekly, feeling her cheeks flush, as she shook her head, "No, thank you, sir."

"Are you certain?" the Marquis asked, his French accent thick and his voice holding an amused tone.

Yn swallowed hard, looking at him through her eyelashes shyly. She could feel his piercing gaze on her and it made her feel uneasy.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

The Marquis chuckled softly as he stared at her unwaveringly. All of a sudden, he rose to his feet with his desserts still in his hand. Then he began to make his way towards Yn, causing the bunny-girl to be alarmed and anxious. His gaze was deep and sharp as he strode towards her slowly, taking his time while exuding an air of power.

Yn stared at the floor, feeling a huge sense of unease wash over her, as she heard his footsteps growing louder towards her. Soon enough, he stood in front of her. The height difference between them was huge since he was a very, very tall man.

She was no longer staring at the floor. Instead, it was his chest and his dashing three-piece suit. The fabric hugged his figure perfectly, making him look even more imposing. She kept her gaze on his chest, not wanting to meet his gaze and make eye contact.

The Marquis then bent down, leaning his head downward that his face ended up entering Yn's view. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as she couldn't help but look up to meet his gaze. He was bending his head down to have her look at him directly. His tall, powerful figure loomed over her as his head dipped down, head-level with hers. His face was stern, unflinching and demanding her attention. His expression conveyed a sense of power and dominance over her as if he was expecting her to obey his commands.

With his face close to her, he smirked and said, "Finally, you look at me."

Yn was transfixed by his gaze, her wide eyes unmoving as she observed his face. His expression was firm and fierce, yet at the same time there was a hint of smugness and confidence in his smirk as he studied her. His deep eyes seemed to bore into her and she could feel the power emanating from him. His close proximity to her made her feel vulnerable. She was speechless under his gaze, unsure how to respond but it seemed that he was fine with her making eye contact with him.

While he fixed his deep gaze on her, he addressed to someone else, "Malone, explain to me about the mask system here."

That caused Yn to register that she was still donning the black mask, concealing her nose and mouth effectively. Mr. Malone was taken aback by the sudden question directed at him and he explained, "Umm... To protect the bunny-girls, I establish the system that the girls with mask are off-limits. Customers are not allowed to harass them or touch them in any way without explicit consent. However, the bunny-girls without masks can be asked for a private room and physical contact is allowed within limits."

The Marquis nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Yn's face, "Interesting."

Mr. Malone breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the Marquis seemed to approve it. However, the Marquis wasn't finished with Yn as he asked her with a smirk, "So, Yn, remove your mask for me."

Yn's heart thudded in her chest as she stared at the Marquis, her body frozen in place. She knew she couldn't take off her mask, not now, not ever. Taking the mask off would reveal her true identity to some stranger and would bring danger to herself.

"I-I can't, sir," she stuttered out, her voice barely audible.

The Marquis raised an eyebrow, his smirk remained as if her denial was a joke to him, "And why not?"

Yn bit her lip, her mind racing. She had to come up with a plausible excuse, and fast. "It's uh... I feel much safer wearing a mask."

The Marquis gave a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. His lips then parted to let out a deep and throaty chuckle. But then, in the blink of an eye, the smirk fell and his features hardened. His voice deepened as he spoke with an undeniable authority, "Take off your mask."

Yn's eyes widened with fright as she stared at the Marquis, her gaze only broken as she shifted it towards Mr. Malone in hope for help. However, instead of support, she found only his hard frown and stern gaze, conveying his lack of help. Yn's heart plummeted and she knew there was no escape from the situation.

Trembling with fear, Yn slowly lifted her hand to remove the elastic strap that held the mask in place. Her fingers fumbled as she struggled to undo the clasp. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she managed to remove the mask and reveal her face to the Marquis.

For a moment, he stared at her intently, his gaze scanning her features with an intensity that made Yn feel exposed and vulnerable as if she was standing naked in front of him. She lowered her gaze, unable to meet his intense stare.

"Hmm," he harrumphed thoughtfully, his voice low and husky that way.

Yn felt her cheeks flush, feeling somewhat embarrassed at how he judged her. She didn't know how to respond, so she simply stayed mute, keeping her gaze on his chest.

That's when she saw him scoop a spoonful of ice cream and neared it towards her mouth. He dipped his head down again, letting his face enter her vision, before he said with a smirk, "Open your mouth."

Yn hesitated for a moment but the Marquis stared at her expectantly, the spoon still held up to her lips. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth, allowing the Marquis to feed her the ice cream. The cold sweetness of the ice cream flooded her senses as it melted within her mouth.

The Marquis watched her carefully as she savored the treat, his eyes glinting with amusement. He seemed to be enjoying her reaction, relishing in the power he held over her. Yn felt the intensity of his gaze and it made her feel both intimidated

He slowly withdrew the spoon from her mouth and looked her in the eye with an intensity that made her feel exposed. His eyes glittered with amusement as he then licked the spoon, savoring the melted ice cream on its surface. The whole sight caught her off guard and she quickly looked away in embarrassment. The act seemed almost dirty and sinful and she couldn't help but feel intimidated by the power the Marquis held over her.

A smirk curved his lips before he suddenly turned and walked away from her. He put away the cup of dessert and strode towards the door of the VIP room while saying, "I'm delighted to have come to an arrangement with you, Malone. As a result of our meeting, it is established that I am the new owner of this casino. And you shall remain in charge as the managing director."

As he arrived at the door, he spun around and gave a pointed look at Mr. Malone and asked firmly, "Am I right?"

"Yes, sir!" replied Mr. Malone, seemingly hesitant to say it, "I will tell every staff about this."

The Marquis tilted his head with a smug smile, "Good. And as for you, Yn..."

Yn became alarmed once again. He turned his gaze back towards her and wore a smirk on his face as he said with his voice low and velvety, "Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

Yn felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, not understanding what those words meant. The Marquis then stepped out of the VIP room and he was quick to be joined by his bodyguards who were waiting for him outside the door. Yn was then left alone with Mr. Malone.

As soon as the Marquis left, Yn quickly put on her mask and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Mr. Malone looked at her and gave out a huge sigh and said, "Well, at least that went well. A deal is secured."

Yn nodded, still feeling a bit shaken from the encounter. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she said, "Yeah, but he's… intense."

Mr. Malone chuckled, a twinkle in his eye, "That's the Marquis for you. He's not one to be trifled with."

Yn looked at him, confused, and she inquired, "But that man, the Marquis... I've never heard of him before."

Mr. Malone's expression turned serious, "The Marquis is not someone you want to cross, Yn. He's a powerful man with connections in all the wrong places. Even if he's from France, he could find you and ruin your life if he wants to. You should be careful around him. But, now that he has agreed to have us under his wing, this business would be well-protected in finance and safety."

Yn slowly nodded, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her. She couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in her stomach but she knew that there was no turning back now. The deal was done and they were now under the Marquis' protection.

But, working with the Marquis would be dangerous, she mused. And she did not want to see him anymore for the rest of her life but it seemed like she didn't have a choice. As Mr. Malone stood up to leave, Yn couldn't help but feel a pang of consternation as she watched him go. She was alone now and the Marquis's words were still ringing in her ears.

"Merci et à la prochaine fois, ma dame."

She didn't know what those words meant but they sounded sinister. Yn shook her head, trying to push away the fear that was gripping her. She stood up and started cleaning up the room and leftover desserts.

NEXT : Chapter 02

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anonymergremlin · 1 year ago

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I want to feel you

Well there you go guys. My smut oneshot with P x Fem!Reader. You could say it has a certain naughty plot that ends up with I think romantic and sexy... well S€X. I hope you like it and as always thanks for reading my stuff. WARNING! SMUT

It has been like this for a few years. [Name] would leave the safety of the hotel in the morning, two blades in each hand, a firearm strapped to her hip, and the desire to fight again. Fight for the people of Krat, who had suffered far too long. Fight for the memory of her dear friend and the one she loved so much. This motivation was the only fuel left in her body to participate in this nightmare, even if it meant returning to the hotel exhausted and tired. But after the arrival of the good puppet, things changed, there were fewer puppets to fight, the number of madmen decreased and the hope in the people's eyes began to flicker again. Geppetto's puppet, P, is a blessing to everyone.

At first, [Name] kept her distance, watching the puppet from afar. By the way Lady Antonia looked at him and spoke to him, [Name] knew that the lady had the same thoughts as she did. His pretty face, his long chestnut hair, and the way he was built all looked way too familiar. Over time, she began to close the distance between herself and the puppet, to let him into her life and to open her heart to him. P is a useful companion, P is a chance for the desired end of chaos, P is a new beginning for her broken heart.

[Name] hadn't planned to go this far. She didn't think that she would end up kissing him after he came back from a dangerous mission, she didn't think that she would whisper sweet nothings into his ear every time he visited her in her little workshop in the basement of the hotel, and she certainly didn't think that she would want to take him back to her room to devour every part of his body. The young woman had opened her heart to him and he embraced it completely. As he became more human, he began to lean into her actions, becoming needy and romantic himself. He showed the effect of her gestures and words. It made her desire burn even more. Soon [Name] had to devour him.

The two lovers entered the hotel covered in blood and oil. It was now normal for her to be accompanied by him on what she called her hunts. P has to protect her, he wants to protect her, so [Name] had no choice but to let him go with her. Step by step they climbed the stairs, both of them heading for her room. [Name] opened the door slowly and walked in, taking off everything heavy from her tired body. Her coat hit the floor while her blades and weapon were carefully placed on a table. A sound of displeasure escaped her lips as she turned her head from side to side to relieve some of the pressure on her muscles. "Ahhh, it really hurts today. I should have been more careful."

"Mia cara."

[Name] turned around as the pet name finally reached her ears. Oh, by whatever god there is, she loved to hear him call her by that name. Her orbs focused on his face. She watched as his soft lips parted slightly and his eyebrows lowered to show his concern. "Oh, my love, it's all right. A little pain didn't stop me then and it won't stop me now," she said softly as she moved closer to him. Her left hand found its way to one of his cheeks, her thumb stroking the skin. She watched as he leaned into the gesture, moving his head slightly so that her touch reached every little spot. They stayed like this for a while before she moved in for a kiss. Their lips pressed against each other, both of their hands searching for a spot on each other's bodies.

It burns inside her. She needs him now.

With all the strength left in her body, [Name] pushed him and herself backwards. A light thud reverberated through the room as his back hit the wall. The tip of her tongue pressed against his lips, waiting for P to understand what was happening, or for a moment where he would open his mouth just slightly for her tongue to slip in. It wasn't a surprise to her that the second option became the true one. Without hesitation, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, swirling it around his as if she wanted them to dance. Unknown sounds, sounds she had never heard from him, left his mouth. The tongue kiss was a strange thing for him, but it felt so good. He began to mimic her actions, his tongue swirling around hers in a dance, playing with it.

They both stayed like this for a while until she pulled away. Thin strings of salvia hung from both of their lips, the young woman was breathing heavily, and from the way he was looking at her, she knew that he would probably be doing the same if he had to breathe at all. Her eyes swept over his body before she grabbed his coat. Helping him pull it off. "Come on, love. Let's take this to the bed," she whispered into his ear as she took his hand. [Name] pulled him close enough to her bed before giving him a little nudge. He felt backwards into the soft mattress, blue orbs still focused on her. If he had the ability to blush, he would look like a ripe, sweet cherry.

P watched as her hands moved over her body, slowly tugging at each piece of cloth that covered her skin. The puppet's eyes grew wider and wider as one piece after another fell off, until she was left with nothing but her natural beauty. "Do you like what you see, my love?" she asked him with a cheeky smile, slowly moving closer and kneeling on the bed right next to his two legs. [Name] sat down where his crotch would normally be and rubbed her lower half gently against him. She knew that P wasn't made like a normal human, that certain human parts didn't exist for him because they weren't considered necessary. But she didn't care, they would have their 'fun' in a different way.

The young woman leaned forward, her bare breasts pressing lightly against his chest. A few strands of his auburn hair found their way between her fingers. She played with them for a few seconds before planting a soft kiss on them. "You are so beautiful P, like a dream in the shape of a person, like a light that keeps you safe in the dark. You are simply amazing, my love". Her attention returned to his face, watching his reaction. Puzzled and enchanted, something she could read in his bright blue eyes. [Name] moved her face closer to his once more, kissing his lips before running her lips down the length of his throat and then stopping at his chest. Her fingers found their way under his shirt, carefully pushing it up to pull it off his body in one swift motion.

His chest was incredible. The skin looked so soft, so luminous and untouched. It felt like she was looking at one of those ancient paintings. A painting that summarised the word 'beauty'. The tip of her fingers rubbed circles into his skin, nudging him just slightly to see his reaction, and to her surprise, he did react. Soft, short gasps left his lips and his back arched slightly the more she touched him. It was beautiful, attractive and erotic, something that made the sensation between her legs burn even more. [Name]'s hands found their way into his trousers, pulling them down by the waistband. Now the puppet lay beneath her in his own naked glory.

Even without any significant human parts, without a cock between his legs, he still drove her crazy. A short moan escaped her lips, a blush covered her face. She couldn't hold back any longer. "P, my love, look at me. Look what you are doing to me." The young woman pressed her knees deeper into the mattress, moving her hips back and forth, rubbing her wetness against his body. The slight bulge beneath her, probably there to express a certain masculinity in the puppet form, felt so good against her needy clit. Her hands gripped his hips, using them to pull herself further into his frame. And he, he watched her satisfy her needs with his body while she made sure to give him a good time in return by letting him watch her. His eyes shone a strong blue, words wanted to leave his usually quiet throat, but they couldn't. The sight took his breath away.

"P… P!" she had moaned over and over again. His name fell from her lips as if it was all that was left in her mind. He watched as her pussy rubbed more and more against his artificial skin, leaving a wet trail that seemed to glisten slightly on his skin. Her two breasts bounced with every movement of her body, revealing what he thought was perfect roundness. The puppet loved to watch her show for him, he could feel a certain sensation running through his springs as he watched her. He was sure that if he were more human he would have felt the same thing, he would have felt aroused.

As he watched her continue to fuck herself with his body, a certain desire began to grow within him. He wanted to be more involved in this act. To be a part of her pleasure, away from the spectatorship and the enjoyment of the show. P placed one of his hands on her lower body, stopping her movement. He could see an unpleasant look behind her eyes. It must have been a bad moment for her pleasure, but he had to do it. With his other hand, he carefully pushed her off his body, allowing her body to fall beside him. [Name] wanted to raise her voice but was stopped by the feeling of cold metal touching her clit, rubbing it lightly with one finger while the other fingers found their way into her wet cave. "P! Ahhh… there. Yes, right there!".

His action came as a surprise. But not as much as the fact that he knew almost immediately where to place his fingers. P's movements with his fingers are gentle, exploring her pussy cautiously before having a slight idea of what to do. Fingertips rubbed over the tiny bundle of nerves, the same way his skin did when she rubbed against him. His other fingers entered her needy hole, stroking her inner walls in a circle of entry and exit. The puppet seemed to have grasped the concept of finger fucking far too quickly.

She moaned louder and louder, almost as if she were singing to him. His name echoed through the room. Again and again. His movements grew faster and stronger. The springs inside his body almost exploded at the sight of his lover. She was in total bliss. His lips pleased his lover with wet tongue kisses which followed the same rhythm as his fingers. The puppet desired all of this, and he wants it again and again.

After a while, [Name]'s nails began to crawl into his back, her body trembling and her moans becoming stuttering. With a final whisper of his name, she climaxed. Covering his metallic fingers with her juice. Her eyes closed for a moment before opening again to see her lover curiously holding his juice-covered fingers in front of his eyes. A small smile on his face. Making him look like he appreciated what he had done. To make him focus on her, [Name] pulled his hand slightly away from his gaze. Without hesitation, she placed his fingers in her mouth and licked off her own juices, knowing by the look on his face that his springs were responding again.

"My love… you are so good to me. But I am sure. We could do even more, P."

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #p x reader #oneshot #smut #you requested and i served #i hope you guys liked it #i... certainly did #*coughs*

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exquisitesimp · 1 year ago

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Comforting Akutagawa during a mental breakdown

A/N: Hello to everyone reading this! I’m back at it again with Bungo Stray Dogs, more particularly the Port Mafia. In this story, the reader (F) is giving comfort and affection to her emotionally damaged boyfriend Akutagawa, after an unfortunate encounter with his old mentor figure (aku was my first love in bsd). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with my posts, it means so much to me! Stay healthy, eat well and drink plenty of water! - Sam

Tags: Bungo Stray Dogs, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, angst, reverse comfort, SFW

Warnings: mental breakdown, emotional and physical abuse, NSSI

Word Count: approx. 4.8k

It was one of these nights again; these difficult, heart-wrenching nights that constantly made you question the meaning of such a life, a life filled with pain and suffering. You’ve become a little too familiar with this feeling since you’ve experienced, well… a little too many nights like these.

“Remember what you’re doing all this for!” you exclaimed.

Except there was nobody there to listen, save for the librarian that was sick of having you be the last one to leave the library in the dark hours of the early morning for the fifth time this week. Talking to the void, maybe all that studying did drive you insane after all.

“You scared the life out of me, for the love of god!”, the lady gasped, jumping awake from the information desk. Poor her, she probably hated these nights even more than you did.

“I’m terribly sorry”, you said, chuckling in awful embarrassment.

She gave you a cold stare, which truthfully saddened you deep down, because you were under the false impression that you had bonded with the woman by now.

“Don’t look at me like that ma’am”, you said, “You know med school isn’t a piece of cake…”

“I know dear”, she responded with a certain sweetness in her voice and a tired sigh, “but isn’t it time to go home soon?”

You looked at the clock above the information desk. It read 2:45. A look of desperation channeled itself on your face as you were thinking about just how much more work you had ahead of you before you could allow yourself to go home and finally get some shuteye.

“Just one more unit, I promise!” you lied, knowing damn well that it was much, much more than that.

“Pfftt….Like we haven’t heard that before…” the librarian mumbled as she began moving around all sorts of books and paper sheets around the information desk.

Of all the times during the day she could get that taken care of, she had to do it right now? The noise she made was getting on your nerves and messed with your focus. However, you knew she was going to kick you out for sure if you dared complain about it. So you just decided to let it go, for your own good perhaps…

Resting your head which had grown quite heavy and dizzy on top of the open books, you sighed in exhaustion, waiting for the woman to stop messing with the papers and your concentration along with them. Wondering how the hell you were supposed to pass all these exams the following week, you were just sitting there, beating yourself up for always leaving things for the last possible moment. But not even a minute later, your phone, which was laying on the table, suddenly buzzed and stopped your overthinking.

It was a voice message from your boyfriend, a little smile subtly forming on your face upon seeing the notification. You’ve been together for almost a year, but the habit of smiling at his texts hasn't faded away whatsoever.

“Ma’am, can I pleeaase use my phone?”, you joked, since there was obviously nobody there to be disturbed by mobile phone usage… except for the poor lady of course. “It’s my sweetheart!”

A few moments of deadly silence followed. From the look on her face, you’d think she was finally done with your smart-ass idiocy.

“Eh, to hell with it…” she responded, having accepted — to your grand surprise — that she’d have you here for quite a while once again.

“God bless your patience! I shall treat you to a huge meal once these detestable exams are over!”, you proclaimed in comedic exaggeration, yet genuinely wanting to express your gratitude to her in some sort of way. With your late-night hypertension and your endearingly annoying sense of humor, you could imagine that having you study here all these days must have been quite a handful.

“Who said I wanted to have a meal with you?”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes.

Purposefully ignoring her rhetorical question with a smile on your face, you opened the message and placed your phone next to your head with the speaker facing your ear, the woman sighing at your shenanigan in the background.

“Hey, Y/N…”

You didn’t expect to hear Gin’s voice.

“Listen… I found my brother’s phone in a dark alley on the ground, and it’s all cracked up now, and I’m not quite sure what happened... He was still supposed to be here, but I assume there was some big trouble and he had to flee. Problem is— TACHIHARA CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE F— sorry about that… problem is I contacted our headquarters and he’s not there”

Your eyes opened wide as the message kept on playing. Two opposing forces fighting in your brain; one worrying that something terrible has happened to him, the other trying to remain cool-headed since you didn’t know any crucial details about the situation.

“My guess would be that he’s at your place. I know you have a lot of work to do in the library, but please check if everything’s okay with him. Gotta go, the Armed Detective Agency is just around the corner”

You heard the words “Armed Detective Agency” and you instantly knew what this was about.

“Oh fuck” you said out loud and stood up from your desk as if struck by some invisible thunder.

“What is it this time?”, the librarian desperately asked.

“It’s your lucky day”, you replied, packing up your bag in quick, messy movements, “I’ve got to go right now”

“Good grace”, she mumbled as she started switching off the lights to finally close the place down for the night.

“Thanks for everything!”, you shouted hurriedly, storming out of the university library and rushing to the parking lot.

You jumped in your car and immediately started the engine. You already knew by now that no encounter with the Agency could possibly be any good for Akutagawa. And this time, you had a strong feeling that something was very, very wrong.

In less than half the time it would usually take, you sloppily drove back to your apartment, very lucky that you hadn’t crushed the car onto anything on the way there. Running with light steps and pushing through your own fatigue, you finally reached the door and knocked on it.

“Sweetie?”, you called out softly.

There was complete silence on the other side, a type of silence that grew an unshakeable fear within you. After taking a deep breath, you reached for the keys in the pocket of your jacket and slowly opened the door.

You took a good look at the living room before entering, and everything was exactly the way you left it, including the little lamp you always kept switched on even when nobody was home. From where you were standing, nothing seemed wrong with the kitchen either. At first glance it all looked perfectly normal, but there was something very intuitively suspicious about this quietness that consumed the entire place.

Due to your intensive studying at the library the past few days, you ended up coming home at times like these almost every day, and you found the emptiness to be serene, and even comforting in its own way. But now it was frantically maddening, as if you’d be crazy to assume someone else was here, but equally as insane to think that you were totally alone.

You gulped as you took a few steps in and closed the door behind you, cold shivers running down your body. Only while taking off your own shoes did you look down to check if his were there, and much to your relief, they were just beside the door. You immediately felt a weight fall off your shoulders, knowing now that nobody had broken in or that you weren’t… imagining things.

You quietly made your way right in front of the shut door of your bedroom, and since you already passed by the empty bathroom, you knew that was the only place where he could possibly be. Just by standing there you felt a dark chilly aura strike you down to the bone.

Knowing about his occupation and even his abusive past, you were already aware that Akutagawa was very much capable of becoming violent. But this wasn’t the first time he went through a crisis like this with you, so you had faith that if you stood there for him once again, it would all work out, just like the previous times.

You plucked up all the courage you had inside you and knocked on the door.

“Sweetie?”, you repeated. “Are you alright?”

Once again, no answer. At this point you started getting worried. That was the only place he could be, right? Then why was he not responding?

Making the tiniest amount of sound possible, you pushed the door open ever so slightly to peek through the crack, and that’s when you saw something you’ve never witnessed before.

Although the light switch was on, the room was pitch black with only a few strands of light somehow making their way through. Sinister branches of darkness were spread all over, some intertwined with one another in an infernal veil, and others ruthlessly piercing the entirety of the space like enormous, sharp blades.

You were completely astounded. You had no idea that Rashoumon could take on such a petrifying form.

Before you could even begin to grasp the density and the complexity of what your eyes just viewed, the door was somehow explosively shut inches away from your face, causing you to gasp at the thunderous noise.

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE DOOR?”, Akutagawa yelled, his strung out voice echoing within his ability’s construction.

“I’m sorry sweetie”, you responded peacefully, “I just wanted to check if you’re okay…”

“What does this look like to you?” he asked sarcastically, while Rashoumon locked the door from the inside, eliminating any possibility that he’d just let you in that easily.

“What I meant is, are you physically okay? Did you get hurt?”, you asked, trying to maintain your calm composure.

“I’m intact”, he answered as if even such a small question was so immensely bothersome to him at that moment, “now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”

“How am I supposed to leave you alone in a state like this?”

He didn’t respond, but it’s not like you expected him to. Hurt and afraid, he always hid inside his hard shell at times like this, and it took a lot of strength and effort to get him to open up to you. You took a big breath, because the difficult part was just starting.

“Your sister found your phone somewhere in the city and contacted me…”, you began.

“I don’t wanna talk about this…” he growled as rage kept building up within him.

“I know it’s difficult to talk right no—“

“THEN CUT IT OUT”, he screamed with a trembling voice and paused for a second, “before I break the door…”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now, but please just listen”.

You paused for a while to see what his reaction would be. Although he was once again mute, you were quite happy that you didn’t get smashed by the door; it meant he was waiting for you to speak.

“I know you’re not feeling well right now, and I just want to let you know that it’s totally okay to feel this way, even though I don’t know what exactly happened… I just wanted to tell you…”.

Another silence-filled pause ensured you that he was still listening.

“You did the right thing to come here, sweetie… The fact that you’re here right now means that even if you want me to leave you alone this instant, some part of you wants to find comfort here… And that’s exactly what I want to do for you right now. I just want to make it better, I promise. Please, Aku…Let me help you…”

No response.

“I’ll be waiting right behind the door for as long as you need. Please don’t break me along with it, or better yet, let me in whenever you feel like…”

It wasn’t much later that you heard the door finally unlock behind you, so you stood up, carefully opened it, and saw that your previously unimaginably ominous room was now just the way you remembered it.

Akutagawa was sitting on the floor in the corner across the room, curled up so he could take up as little space as possible. He had wrapped his arms around his knees and held them closely against his chest. His cloak was thrown over his shoulders, covering most of his upper body and his head was buried on his forearms.

You quietly approached him and sat next to him to keep him at ease. All these months in a relationship with him taught you that at times like these, he felt threatened by people sitting right opposite him, and didn't respond to them so well. He also deeply despised being looked at when he’s in such a vulnerable state, so you respected his wishes and looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

“Take your time, sweetie. I’m here to listen”, you said after a minute or two.

He took a big breath before lifting his head up, while you made sure to make him feel as comfortable as you could, based on his own individual terms.

“The Command Unit was sent to the center of Yokohama to investigate some strange movements in the black market… and there, I ran into that stupid weretiger...”

“Mhm hm”, you nodded as you kept listening carefully.

“We started a fight and I had cornered him in this alley… that was all until he showed up…”

“Dazai?”, you asked, just to make sure your assumptions were correct.

“Yes…” , he answered as his voice got weaker. “He nullified my ability and told the weretiger to leave, so it was just the two of us…”

You noticed it was getting harder and harder for him to speak as the conversation shifted towards Dazai. It was no surprise since he’d talked to you about him before but it was, nonetheless, upsetting to hear.

“No…”, you said, “and what did he do?”

“Well, he…”, Akutagawa said and then paused as if to collect himself, “he kicked me right below the chest and I was on the ground coughing…”

He took a breath, before proceeding to give you the rest of the story.

“And he said some things… something about the weretiger being better than me… but I’ve heard that before…”

“Aw sweetie—“

“He knows…”, he said, burying his head on his knees once again. “He found out about my disease somehow…”

When you heard him quietly weep, you moved a little closer to him, just enough so that he didn’t feel alone in this difficult, doleful moment. Before you could even begin to ask how Dazai managed to find that out, Akutagawa jumped into your arms and buried his head on your shoulder, letting his black cloak fall off his frail body.

As he did that, you didn’t fail to notice that his white shirt had bloody stains on each sleeve, a little bit above the length of the elbow. Both sides had five holes each, one for each of his own fingers that had been digging into his skin, scratching and ripping it apart.

You were so upset, but you realized that it would be no good to address it right now. So instead, you wrapped him up in the warm embrace that he desperately needed at the time.

“That lung disease you have is going to kill you soon… Maybe then, I’ll consider coming back to the Port Mafia… Such a shame that… even when you leave your last pathetic breath… there won’t have been a single moment… when you were better than my new apprentice…”

“That’s what he said to me…”, he uttered, sobbing in between these nasty, horrible phrases.

Your eyes started watering as you squeezed him tighter against you. It was beyond you how anybody could be so viciously cruel to someone so loyal and devoted, even if fate brought it so that they parted ways.

“That’s so hurtful…”, you whispered as tears were running down your cheeks. “It’s okay… Let it all out, I’m right here…”

“Why? Just why?!”, he cried in anguish, “How much more must I do? When will all this be over? When will I ever be enough?!”

You didn’t know how to respond to such questions at times like these, so you just let him lash out until he hopefully calmed down eventually.

“What am I saying? That’s never gonna happen…”, he lamented as his body started shivering, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I’m a worthless and pathetic fool…”

“That’s not true…please stop saying things like that…”, you pleaded.

“I’m just gonna die so pointlessly… And it won’t even matter to him…”

“Well it’s gonna matter to me!”, you raised the tone of your voice, verklempt and teary-eyed.

His chest kept pumping against yours as he was struggling for breath.

“I’m so sorry my love…”, you apologized, fearing that all you just did was worsen his situation by letting your own emotions take over. He tried to say something, but in this state, coherent words couldn’t come out of his mouth.

You had to stay strong and help him during this difficult time. Right now, the situation wasn't about you.

“Listen to me, let’s take some deep breaths okay? Breathe in till four, hold till four, and breathe out till six. Can you do that for me?”

You felt him nodding yes, lifting his head up and letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“Perfect, I’ll count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…”

Akutagawa tried to follow your count as much as he could. You had to do this exercise about fifteen times before his breathing took its normal pace back. Your hand was always gently caressing the back of his head, and with every round you completed, you made sure that he knew he was doing a good job.

“I’m so proud of you”, you murmured and kissed his temple, “are you feeling any better now?”.

He nodded yes and sniffed his nose.

“Can I look at you?”, you asked.

He sighed, then nodded yes once again. Once he let go, you gently cupped his face and lifted his head up so you could look at him. His poor, restless eyes were ever so red and puffy from all the tears he’d been shedding.

“My sweet Aku…”, you whispered, “if only there was something I could do to take your suffering away… I can only imagine how terrible it feels to be treated so horribly by someone you look up to so much, to always feel like you’re the second option…”

You paused to take a big breath and collect yourself.

“And I know it’s not the same to hear it from me… but you’re always going to be my first choice… always…”

A sad, bitter smile morphed into your boyfriend’s face upon hearing these words, as if they were half-empty, not coming from a certain someone he’d want to hear them from instead.

“I’ll always be here for you… You’re my everything, my love… I love you more than anyone and anything in this world… And seeing you suffer like this… it crushes me…”

Akutagawa sat there in silence, guiltful and grey, shifting his gaze to the cold, hard floor.

“Especially this…” you said with a cracking voice, and looked at the red stains on his sleeves, “this just… it breaks my heart…”

His withering eyes were filling up with tears again.

“Promise me you won’t do it again…please…”, you begged.

“I promise…I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry sweetie, none of this makes you weak in my eyes…. You’re so strong… so much more than you think…”

You looked at him sweetly before pulling him closer to give him a soft kiss on the mouth, his lips passive, almost motionless against yours.

“Now go have a warm shower, you need to relax”, you said, getting up from the floor and offering him a helping hand to stand up as well. “Make sure that a lot of water runs over your wounds. I’ll take care of them once you’re done, okay?”

“Okay”, he answered, giving you his hand, letting you pull him up and still hold him all the way to the bathroom.

“Thank you so much, Y/N… really…”

“Don’t mention it”, you responded lovingly.

As he shut the door behind him, you immediately got this morbid feeling, this insurmountable urge to break down and cry.

You loved him with all your heart, but in comparison to even the tiniest praise from Dazai, your love for Akutagawa didn’t matter nearly as much to him. And that thought pained you so much, it cut deeper than a knife… In a way, you could even say you understood him, knowing that your one and only was gonna leave you soon, and that you’ll always come second, till the last moment… till his last moment, his very last breath…

It was all so devastating… But as you pushed the tears back, you remembered the promise that you made to yourself when you first got into a relationship with him; no matter how hard things got, you were gonna love this person as much as you could, for as long as you could… Until the very end, you had to be his pillar of strength and continue cherishing him no matter how much it hurt you in the process.

And you loved him so much, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey Gin”, you spoke to your phone as you recorded a voice message for her, “I found him, he was at my place. He’s okay, he has a few surface wounds on his arms, most probably nothing to worry about. You can let your boss and the others know that he’s safe and that he’ll stay here for the next couple of hours… And, by the way, thank you for contacting me as soon as you found his phone….Things might’ve been worse, had it not been for you… Call me if you need anything”

As you hit “send”, Akutagawa walked out of the bathroom, wearing an oversized white t-shirt and plaid black and white pajama bottoms, with the towel he used to dry his hair thrown around his neck.

“Feeling more comfortable now?” you asked.

“Yeah”, he responded.

“Good. Now come here, let me see your arms…”

He made his way next to you, letting you investigate his wounds.

“Hmm…”, you said, lost in thought, “they’re not as deep, so you’re not gonna need any stitches… but they do look a bit inflamed… we definitely need to disinfect these”

You took him by the hand back in the bathroom again, where you kept your medical kit. You grabbed the disinfectant bottle and lathered some liquid over a big piece of sterile cotton.

“I gotta warn you sweetie, this might burn a little…”

“Yeah, like I haven’t had worse– OWW!!”, he exclaimed as you pressed it against his wounds.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t used your own hands. You were out fighting, who knows how many germs they had…”

“It burns…”, he hissed, clenching his jaw.

“Warned you…”, you responded. “You’ve never used disinfectant before?”

“Do you really think people in the mafia care to use this sh– AUGHH!”, he snarled once again as you repeated the same treatment to his other arm.

“We’re almost done now…” you reassured him as he gave you the most displeased, irritated stare.

“Hmm let’s see…” you mumbled to yourself while searching the contents of your kit, “I don’t have big enough band-aids for this… guess we’ll have to cover them with something else…”

You opened up two bandages, and with a little hesitation, Akutagawa let you wrap them around his arms tightly.

“All patched up!” you said, giving his boney shoulders a light squeeze, “Is there anything I can make for you? Anything to eat? Some tea maybe?”

“No, I think I’m gonna throw up if I do…”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that… Okay then, I think we should go to bed and get some rest, no?”

“Yeah…”

After you changed into your pajamas and brushed your teeth, you made your way into the fluffy futon and scooched over for Akutagawa to join you shortly after. While he is generally the quiet type, this time you could tell that he was way too tired even for the short-lived, yet endearing small talk before bed.

“My eyes hurt…” Akutagawa murmured as he slid next to you.

“I know, sweetie…Come here…”, you said, lifting up the cover and inviting him close to you.

Your boyfriend found his way into your arms again, his tired head buried in your chest and his thinned body clinging onto yours, the entirety of his being searching for warmth within your embrace. The comforting motions of your hands caressing his back and the sound of your heartbeat was everything he could ask for at the time.

“Feels like you’ve lost more weight…”, you pointed out as you grazed your fingers over the prominent parts of his skeleton, “Have you been eating well lately?”

“Mm-mm”, he shook his head no after a short pause, as if to adjust his thinking to your own standards of self-preservation. To him, if he made it out alive at the end, what was there to care for?

“Well that’s no good…I’m making you fluffy pancakes and your favorite tea in the morning”, you said knowing that, being starved of affection almost his entire life, he found these simple acts of kindness to be a huge deal. His contentment was clear as day, flowing through you as he pulled himself closer, practically sealing shut whatever space there was between the two of you.

“Thank you…”, he purred against your chest, the mere sweetness of his adorable reaction leading you to plant gentle kisses on the top of his head.

“Anything for you sweetie… I just want you to take care of yourself. Undereating can’t do any good to your condition… And I want to keep you around as much as possible, make as many happy memories together as we can…Like that time when you took me to dinner with the mafia for the first time and Higuchi kept warning me not to hurt your feelings or ‘I’ll be dead’...”

“Tsk, that piss-off…” he mumbled in a mix of displeasure and nostalgia, getting annoyed just by remembering the event, but being strangely happy that he got to experience it with you.

“It made me very happy that you apologized to her…”

“After you told me I was acting just like him, I had no choice…”

“And I’m so proud of you for that, sweetie…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair

“I still remember when we had Gin and Chuuya over for my birthday and we played that drinking game he had suggested. I’m pretty sure at some point he stopped caring about the rules and started losing on purpose…Ah, what an iconic day…Oh, and that day when I first told you that I loved you…Hahah, you were so awkward whenever I told you that on the phone. It took you a couple of weeks before you were brave enough to say it back to me... But it’s okay, I’m not blaming you, it’s most wise to wait for the time when you are a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way for me… Hey, what about the day of our first date–”

You’d been talking for quite a while now, vocally walking down memory lane, too absent-minded to notice that Akutagawa was fast asleep by then. Your melancholic monologue got softly interrupted by his faint, quiet snores.

“Aww of course. I almost forgot how easily you fall asleep whenever I start rambling like this…”

You slid your hands under his shirt and felt the soft skin on his back. His hold on you was more relaxed, but far from apathetic, as if what remained of his slowly melting tension was love, and only love.

You smiled, feeling infinitely blessed that your boyfriend was there with you, that you were listening to his slow breathing as he was drifting somewhere far away. Your eyelids had been feeling heavy for a while, but before you joined him, you wanted to get some things off your chest; somethings you truly wanted Akutagawa to know, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear much of it in his sleep.

“Aku, my sweetheart… You are worth so much more than you think. You are enough— no, you’re even more than that… And I wish I had the means to show you just how much you mean to me… Oh, if only I could make you feel even half of my love…”

A/N: Akutagawa cried again in the middle of the night, but didn’t want to bother Y/N with his feelings any further. He removed the bandages because anything that reminded him of Dazai, he couldn’t have on his body. After Y/N found out, she apologised for her ignorance and made him the most delicious fluffy pancakes.

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novaursa · 24 days ago

Text

Of Gods and Men (the path)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Paring: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: god killer

- Next part: destiny

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You woke to a throbbing pain radiating through your body, your limbs heavy and restrained. The world was dim, the cold stone beneath you rough and unyielding. Every breath was a struggle, and as your vision slowly cleared, the weight of the chains binding your wrists and ankles became apparent. The metal was thick, cutting into your skin, and the sound of the links clinking together as you moved sent a chill down your spine.

A voice cut through the haze of pain, sharp and mocking.

"Ah, you're awake."

You turned your head, forcing your eyes to focus on the figure standing in the shadows. Feyd. His smirk was unmistakable, dripping with cruelty as he stepped closer, his boots echoing ominously in the dimly lit room. He looked down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up," he said, crouching down to meet your gaze. "I have to admit, watching you fall from the sky was quite the sight. Almost poetic."

You glared at him, refusing to show any sign of fear despite the pain coursing through your body. Your heart ached for Vexiae, the thought of her suffering gnawing at you. You couldn't feel her presence like you usually did, and that emptiness made your chest tighten.

"Where is she?" you demanded, your voice hoarse but steady.

Feyd's smirk widened. "Your beast?" He stood, pacing around you slowly, savoring every moment of his control over the situation. "She doesn't want to cooperate. We tried a few methods, but she’s quite stubborn, I’ll give her that."

You gritted your teeth, knowing what he meant. Vexiae would never bend to anyone’s will, let alone the Harkonnens. Her spirit was as fierce as the fire she breathed.

"Dragons are not slaves," you spat, your anger overriding the pain.

Feyd paused, looking down at you with mock pity. "Ah, but everyone can be made a slave, my dear," he said softly. "It’s all a matter of pressure, pain... and the right incentive."

You held his gaze, refusing to break, though every muscle in your body screamed in protest. The weight of the chains, the cold of the stone—it all felt secondary compared to the burning anger rising in your chest.

He crouched down again, his face mere inches from yours. "You’ll see. Your dragon will fall in line. And so will you."

"I’ll never bow to you," you hissed through clenched teeth.

Feyd chuckled darkly, standing again as if your defiance amused him. "That’s what they all say at first. But I have time, and so do you."

He gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward and handed him a device, something small and sleek, with a cruel design you didn’t recognize. "You see, we’ve developed a little toy just for this occasion. It’s going to make things... uncomfortable for you. And for your dragon. I suggest you cooperate."

You felt the cold fingers of dread claw at you, but you kept your face impassive. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction. You wouldn’t.

Feyd turned to leave, but before he exited, he paused at the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face.

"We’ll talk more later, dragon witch. I’m looking forward to seeing how long you’ll last."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you alone in the cold, the weight of the chains heavy around your wrists and ankles. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to remain calm, to think clearly. There had to be a way out. There always was.

You closed your eyes, focusing on Vexiae, willing her to stay strong. You wouldn’t let them break you. Neither of you.

The Harkonnens thought they had won, but they had no idea what was coming for them.

Leto stood over the holomap, his eyes scanning the terrain where their forces were stretched thin. The temporary base they’d established was a hive of activity, Atreides and Targaryen forces moving in sync as they prepared for the next Harkonnen assault. Hawat was beside him, analyzing the data with a keen eye, while Gurney gave orders to the soldiers under his command. Across the table, Aenys and Aelor spoke in low voices, strategizing their next moves.

"Maelor’s holding the line with Duncan and Stilgar," Leto said, his tone strained but resolute. "But the Harkonnens are relentless. We need to hit them back harder."

Aenys nodded, his face impassive but his eyes sharp with focus. "We will. My sons are ready to tear them apart. The moment we have an opening, they’ll push forward."

Aelor leaned forward, his expression mirroring his father’s. "If we can divert their forces at the southern ridge, we’ll have the advantage. But we need more time."

Hawat, never one to miss a detail, interjected. "Time isn’t something we have much of. Our scouts have reported more Harkonnen reinforcements incoming. We’re on the clock."

Leto’s jaw clenched as he absorbed the information. His thoughts drifted to you, still in Harkonnen hands. Every passing moment weighed on him, knowing you were out there, fighting to survive. But they had to stay focused. They couldn’t let emotion cloud their decisions, not with so much at stake.

Suddenly, a chill swept through the room, and the atmosphere shifted. Leto’s head snapped up, as did Aenys’s, both of them sensing the disturbance before anyone else.

From the shadows, the Red Woman appeared.

The soldiers nearest to her instinctively reached for their weapons, but Aenys raised a hand, stilling them. The Red Woman stepped forward, her presence eerie and commanding as always, her red robes billowing slightly as she moved. Her eyes, glowing faintly in the low light, fixed on the group gathered around the holomap.

Leto narrowed his eyes, unsure of her intentions. "What are you doing here?"

The Red Woman’s lips curved into a small smile. "The Lord of Light has shown me things, Duke. Things that concern both your House and House Targaryen."

Aenys crossed his arms, his tone curt. "Speak, if you’ve come with something useful."

She stepped closer to the map, her fingers brushing against its edges as if sensing the energy of the battlefield laid out before them. "The Harkonnens have bitten off more than they can chew, but they are not the only threat. Darkness looms over this planet, and the war you think you’re fighting is but a piece of a larger game."

Leto exchanged a glance with Aelor, the tension between them clear. "And what exactly are you suggesting?"

The Red Woman’s gaze flickered to Leto, then to Aenys. "You seek to reclaim your lady," she said, her voice soft but laced with power. "But there is more at play here than the rescue of a single person. The Harkonnens are tools, pawns of a greater force. If you do not strike swiftly, you risk losing more than just her."

Aenys’s eyes darkened, the mention of his daughter causing the temperature in the room to plummet. "What do you know of my daughter’s fate?"

The Red Woman met his gaze without flinching. "I see her, bound but not broken. The fire in her soul still burns. But the longer you delay, the closer the darkness creeps. And it is not the Harkonnens you should fear most, Dragonlord."

Leto’s patience was wearing thin. "Enough with the riddles. If you have information that can help us find her, say it."

She tilted her head slightly, a strange glint in her eyes. "The Lord of Light has shown me where they hold her. Beyond the southern ridge, deep in the caverns they believe hidden from the stars. But beware—their traps are set. And their new weapon will strike again if you are not careful."

Gurney’s eyes narrowed. "What kind of weapon?"

The Red Woman’s smile faded. "One that has tasted dragon’s blood and seeks more."

Aenys’s fists clenched at his sides, and Aelor’s expression grew darker. Leto felt the weight of the situation pressing down on them all, but there was no time for hesitation.

"Then we’ll destroy it," Leto said, his voice resolute. "We’ll strike fast, before they can use it again."

The Red Woman nodded, stepping back into the shadows. "Be swift, Duke. The night is dark and full of terrors, but the dawn brings hope."

With that, she disappeared as suddenly as she had come, leaving the room in a deaf silence.

Aenys turned to Leto, his voice low but deadly. "We move now."

Leto nodded, already issuing orders to his men. There was no turning back. They would reclaim you, no matter the cost.

The wind whipped through the jagged rocks beyond the southern ridge, carrying with it the scent of dust and something darker. Leto stood with his forces, his eyes scanning the horizon. Every muscle in his body was stiff, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He had to focus, had to stay sharp, but every breath he took was filled with the weight of knowing you were somewhere out there—captured, bound, vulnerable.

He glanced at Gurney, who was adjusting the strap on his weapon, his face set in a grim line.

"Any word on those weapons the Red Woman mentioned?" Leto asked, his voice low.

Gurney shook his head, his brow furrowing. "Not yet. But we’ve got scouts in the area. They’re closing in on something suspicious about a few clicks west. Could be what we’re looking for."

Leto nodded, though his heart pounded harder with every passing minute. He couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at him—the fear that you were still in danger, the thought of you bound and suffering under Harkonnen control. He clenched his fists, trying to push the image of you out of his mind long enough to focus on the task at hand.

His thoughts drifted briefly to your twins. His children. They were back in Arrakeen, safe for now, but separated from you. He wondered if they sensed your absence, if they missed your warmth and presence as much as he did. It made his blood boil to think that you were out here, far from them, far from him, and in the hands of his enemies.

Gurney’s comm device crackled to life, breaking the tense silence.

"Sir," came a voice, faint and crackling through the static. "This is the infiltration team from House Velaryon. We’ve spotted something suspicious about three clicks west of your location. We're moving in to investigate."

Leto stiffened, his mind racing. House Velaryon was one of the Targaryen vassals—strong, capable fighters, and their infiltration team had proven invaluable more than once. But still, a sense of dread settled over him.

"Three clicks west," Gurney repeated into the comm. "Understood. Proceed with caution. Report back as soon as you find anything."

The static cut out, and Gurney turned to Leto. "What do you think?"

Leto’s jaw clenched as he stared out into the distance, his thoughts swirling. "We need to be ready. If they’ve found what we think they have, we’ll need to act fast."

Gurney nodded, but his eyes lingered on Leto’s face, as if sensing the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "You’re thinking about her," he said quietly.

Leto didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the barren landscape before them. He didn’t need to answer. Gurney knew him too well.

"I can’t stop thinking about her," Leto admitted after a moment, his voice rougher than usual. "Every second she’s out there... every second she’s in their hands..."

Gurney’s face softened slightly. "We’ll get her back, Duke. You know we will. The lass is tough, and you’ve got the best forces in the universe at your side. The Harkonnens won’t stand a chance."

Leto appreciated Gurney’s words, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. The thought of you, captured, possibly hurt... it was unbearable. And the twins. His mind kept going back to them, how vulnerable they were, how they were without their mother. He couldn’t let them lose you. He wouldn’t.

Another crackle came through the comm, and Leto’s head snapped toward it. "Sir," the infiltration team’s voice came through again, strained this time. "We’ve found it. There’s a massive weapon system, camouflaged, just like the Red Woman warned. And... it’s pointed right at your position."

Leto felt his blood turn to ice. "Get out of there," he barked into the comm. "Now!"

But before he could hear a response, a deep rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. The air around them seemed to hum with dread, and Gurney’s eyes widened in alarm as he looked toward the distant ridge.

Leto’s heart raced. The Harkonnens had anticipated them, and now, they were staring down the barrel of the very weapon that had taken you and Vexiae down.

"Prepare for impact!" Leto shouted, grabbing Gurney and pulling him toward the nearest cover as the sound of the weapon charging filled the air.

He would not lose you. He would not let them win. Not while there was still breath in his body.

The ground rumbled violently beneath Leto’s feet as the weapon fired, the noise like a crack of thunder, reverberating through the air with a force that made his bones vibrate. A searing, bright light streaked across the sky, and the blast that followed shook the entire ridge. The explosion wasn’t just sound—it was a pressure wave, slamming into Leto and his men, knocking them back.

“Down! Everyone, get down!” Leto shouted as he dove behind a large rock, Gurney right beside him.

The shockwave tore through their ranks, scattering debris and sending some of the soldiers sprawling. Sand and rock rained down, and Leto could hear the groans and cries of those who had been caught in the blast. His heart raced, panic threatening to take over as he thought of you, somewhere behind enemy lines, while they faced a weapon so powerful it could bring down a dragon.

Gurney wiped dirt from his face, his eyes wide in disbelief as he turned to Leto. “What the hell kind of weapon is that?”

Leto’s mind whirled as he tried to piece it together. He’d heard of such destructive force before, but only from tales of Valyrian technology long lost to time. And now, here it was, weaponized and in the hands of the Harkonnens.

“Drakaon crystal,” Leto said grimly, his voice barely audible over the din of the battlefield. “It’s powered by a Targaryen energy source. That’s how they’re doing it.”

Gurney stared at him, understanding dawning on his face. “You mean they’ve somehow weaponized the power of a dragon?”

Leto nodded, his jaw set. “That crystal—it's what powers everything the Targaryens build. Their ships, their cities... it’s why they’re so advanced. And now the Harkonnens have figured out how to use it to bring us down.”

Another explosion rocked the ridge, the blast closer this time. Leto grabbed Gurney by the arm, pulling him farther behind cover as more debris rained down on them. His thoughts were racing, not just about the battle they were in, but about you. If the Harkonnens were using this weapon now, then they would have it aimed at you as well.

“We need to move!” Gurney shouted over the chaos, his voice strained as the ground shook beneath them again.

Leto didn’t hesitate. “Fall back to the secondary ridge,” he ordered, his voice carrying over the shouts of his men. “Regroup, and we’ll figure out how to take that thing out.”

They moved quickly, dodging the falling rocks and skirting the edges of the destruction. Leto’s heart pounded as he pushed forward, determined to survive, determined to find you. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that the same weapon that had struck down Vexiae was now aimed at his forces. And worse, you were still in their hands.

“Duke, we can’t hold this position!” one of the soldiers yelled as another blast hit, sending more men scrambling for cover. “We need backup!”

Leto gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He needed to get word to Maelor and the others at the Targaryen base, but communication was nearly impossible in the middle of this onslaught. And with you captured, his options were limited.

“Gurney!” Leto shouted over the noise. “Get the rest of our forces to the fallback point! I’m going to find a way to take out that weapon!”

Gurney shot him a look of disbelief. “Alone? Duke, you’ll never—”

“I don’t have a choice!” Leto cut him off, determination burning in his eyes. “I can’t let them keep using this weapon, not when they’ve already taken her.”

Gurney’s face twisted in conflict, but he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. But don’t you get yourself killed, Duke. The lass wouldn’t forgive me.”

Leto managed a grim smile before he turned and sprinted toward the edge of the ridge, his mind locked on the one thing that mattered: getting you back and destroying the weapon before it could wreak more havoc.

As the explosions continued to tear apart the ridge behind him, Leto ran, the image of you in his mind fueling his every step. You and the twins. You had to survive. He couldn’t lose you, not after everything. And he would tear down the entire Harkonnen army if he had to, to make sure you were safe.

Paul stood before the tactical display in the Targaryen base, his brow furrowed in concentration as he coordinated the attacks, his fingers gliding over the holographic interface. The battle raged on outside, his father and Daenys—you— locked in the struggle for their lives. He felt the weight of it all, the burden of leadership pressing down on him in ways he hadn’t expected. He’d always known this day would come, but he hadn’t anticipated it feeling like this. So uncertain. So heavy.

Suddenly, a chill crept through the room, as if the very air had shifted. Paul turned, his eyes narrowing as he saw a figure standing in the shadows of the doorway. The Red Woman.

“You’ve come,” Paul said, his voice steady but with an edge of wariness. He had sensed her arrival before he had even seen her.

Her fiery red robes shifted slightly as she stepped forward, her eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to cut through the dim light of the room. She was both terrifying and mesmerizing, her presence unsettling yet compelling.

“Your path has changed,” the Red Woman said softly, her voice filled with strange certainty. "It was never supposed to be this way."

“I know,” Paul replied, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m not the creation they wanted me to be.”

The Red Woman’s lips curved into a slight smile, though there was no warmth in it. “The Sisterhood's plans unraveled the moment you chose a different course. You were meant to be their instrument, to bring ruin to the universe, to leave billions dead in your wake.”

Paul’s jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “I know what they wanted from me. But I’m not bound by their vision. I’m not their creation.”

“You think you can escape destiny?” The Red Woman’s eyes gleamed with something almost like amusement, but there was a deeper, darker truth behind it. “The Sisterhood’s vision was wrong, yes. But there is a truth they glimpsed, one even they did not fully understand.”

Paul tilted his head, feeling a cold dread creep into his chest. “What do you mean?”

The Red Woman stepped closer, her robes sweeping over the floor like flames dancing on the wind. “You must go to where it all began. To Valyria.”

Paul blinked, caught off guard by the mention of the ancient world. “Valyria is a wasteland. A nuclear ruin. There’s nothing left.”

The Red Woman’s eyes gleamed. “That is what the universe believes, but you will find that much still lingers in the ashes of Valyria. The power that once forged all Great Houses... and the power that nearly destroyed it all. You must go there.”

Paul’s thoughts whirled, trying to comprehend her words. Valyria. The ancient seat of House Targaryen, wiped out in the Doom, destroyed in a cataclysm of fire and destruction. How could anything remain there? It was said to be a dead world, poisoned by radiation, the very air lethal to breathe.

“And what exactly will I find in Valyria?” Paul asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. “More death? Another trap?”

The Red Woman’s gaze was unyielding, her expression unreadable. “You will find your purpose. You will find the truth of what lies within you. And you will face a choice, one that will shape the future of this universe.”

Paul took a breath, trying to center himself. He had learned much from you, from his father, and from all that had transpired. But this—this was something else entirely. He had felt the weight of his destiny before, but never had it felt so... final.

“And if I refuse?” Paul asked, though he already knew the answer.

The Red Woman’s smile widened, but her eyes remained cold. “You won’t.”

Paul stared at her, a thousand questions swirling in his mind. He didn’t want to trust her. He didn’t want to believe that this path was the one he had to take. But deep down, something resonated in her words, something that called to him from a place he had yet to fully understand.

After a long silence, Paul finally spoke. “And if I go, what happens then? What becomes of my family?”

The Red Woman’s gaze softened, just for a moment. “The choice is yours, Paul Atreides. But if you do not go... the universe will burn, with or without you. The question is, will you be the one to light the fire, or will you be the one to put it out?”

Paul’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He looked past her, toward the tactical display, toward the image of the battlefield where his family fought for their lives. And in that moment, he knew the path he had to take.

“I’ll go,” Paul said quietly, the words falling from his lips like a finality.

The Red Woman gave a small nod, her eyes gleaming with something like satisfaction. “Then you are ready.”

And with that, she turned, her red robes sweeping through the doorway as she disappeared into the shadows once more, leaving Paul standing alone in the room, the weight of his decision settling heavily on his shoulders.

Valyria. The birthplace of the dragons. And now, the place where his destiny awaited.

You were dragged roughly through the narrow corridors of the cavern, Feyde’s iron grip on your arm leaving a bruising ache. The cold, damp air did little to dull the pain as your body protested with every step, still weakened from the fall. Every movement was a reminder of the wounds that had yet to heal. But the pain in your body was nothing compared to the fear gnawing at your heart—for Vexiae, your dragon, still in the hands of the Harkonnens.

Feyde stopped abruptly, and you were forced to halt, catching yourself before you stumbled forward. He turned to face you, his dark eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, a predator toying with its prey.

"You'll do everything I say," Feyde hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "Or your dragon will suffer. Believe me when I say, I won’t hesitate."

Your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled you further, dragging you into a large, open chamber. The moment you entered, the sight made your breath catch in your throat—Vexiae, your magnificent dragon, chained and bound, her once fiery, majestic form now trapped, wings pinned, and her glowing amber eyes filled with anguish. The chains were cruel, cutting into her scaled body, keeping her grounded, unable to move. Her deep growl reverberated through the cavern as soon as she saw you.

"Vexiae," you whispered, your voice trembling. Your bond with her was still strong, but the pain she was in cut through you like a blade. You could feel her suffering, her rage, and her fear.

Feyde noticed the flicker of defiance in your eyes, and his smirk grew wider. He let go of your arm, stepping closer to you, too close, his breath hot against your face. His hand, cold and rough, rose to caress your cheek, the touch of it sickening.

"I see why the Duke is so taken with you," Feyde said, his tone mocking as his fingers traced your skin, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine. "Such beauty... and power." He leaned in, his voice dripping with malice. "But all beauty has its price, doesn't it?"

You felt the bile rise in your throat, fighting the urge to pull away, to strike him, but the sight of Vexiae held you in place. One wrong move, one wrong word, and she would suffer more.

"Do what I say, Daenys, and your dragon will live. You will live." Feyde's hand moved down to your throat, his grip firm but not choking, just enough to remind you who held the power. "You wouldn’t want your precious Duke to lose you now, would you?"

His words twisted in your mind like a knife, cutting deep. The thought of Leto, of your children, of the life you had built with him, made your resolve waver, but only for a moment. Feyde was a predator, a monster, and he was toying with your fear, feeding off it.

"You will never break me," you whispered fiercely, your voice hoarse but steady, defiance burning in your chest.

Feyde’s smirk faltered, but only for a moment. His eyes darkened, his grip tightening just enough to remind you that he could still hurt you. But he didn’t need to. Not when he had Vexiae. He stepped back, finally releasing you, but his threat remained in the air like a noose around your neck.

"That remains to be seen," he said, his voice cold as he glanced toward Vexiae. "For now, you'll behave. If you want your dragon to live."

You swallowed hard, your heart aching as you looked at Vexiae, her once powerful form now bound and suffering. You had no choice—for now. You would comply. But you would find a way out. You always did.

Feyde, meanwhile, paced around you, watching your every move like a cat playing with a mouse. His presence made your skin crawl, the tension between you and the chained dragon looming in the air. You could feel Vexiae’s rage coursing through you, her frustration mirroring your own.

"Tell me," Feyde said, his voice casual, but there was an undercurrent of something darker in his tone. "I’ve heard stories of how your people bond with these creatures. Dragons. They say it’s some ancient Valyrian magic, passed down through the bloodlines. You... seem to have mastered it." He stopped, standing just in front of you, his dark eyes boring into yours.

You didn’t respond, keeping your gaze locked on Vexiae. The pain of seeing her like this gnawed at you, but you knew better than to give Feyde the satisfaction of seeing your despair.

He leaned in, his breath close to your ear. "Tell me how it’s done. The bond. What’s the secret? If your people could do it, why not us?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. "You think you can control dragons?" you spat, turning your head to meet his gaze with a cold, defiant stare. "You don’t have the blood for it. Dragons don’t bond with lesser men. Especially not men like you."

For a moment, Feyde’s face twisted with rage, his lips curling into a sneer. Before you could react, his hand lashed out, striking your cheek with a sharp crack. Pain bloomed across your face, and the force of the slap nearly knocked you off balance. You stumbled but caught yourself, refusing to let him see the hurt.

A deafening roar echoed through the chamber, shaking the very ground beneath your feet. Vexiae's roar reverberated off the cavern walls, her fury unleashed at the sight of you being harmed. The chains binding her clinked and rattled as she strained against them, her eyes locked onto Feyde with a fiery intensity that promised vengeance.

Feyde flinched but quickly regained his composure, though you could see the fear flicker in his eyes. He glanced at the dragon, visibly shaken by the beast's raw power, but he masked it with a smug grin as he turned back to you.

"Careful," he taunted, though his voice was strained. "You wouldn’t want to upset her more, would you?"

You lifted your chin, ignoring the stinging pain on your cheek. "Vexiae will tear you apart the moment she’s free," you hissed, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. "She’s no one’s slave."

Feyde’s smirk faltered, but he quickly recovered, his hand tightening around your arm as he leaned in closer, his voice a venomous whisper. "You’ll tell me how it’s done, or I’ll make sure she suffers. And you’ll watch every moment of it."

You clenched your jaw, your heart pounding with anger and fear. He could threaten all he wanted, but he’d never understand. Dragons chose their riders, their kin. They would never bend to the will of someone like Feyde, no matter how much he tried to force it.

"I told you," you said through gritted teeth. "You’ll never have what we do. Dragons bond with those who are worthy, those with Valyrian blood. Not with cowards who hide behind threats and chains."

Feyde’s face twisted in anger again, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you again. But instead, he straightened, his grip on your arm loosening. "We’ll see," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We’ll see how long your defiance lasts."

He stepped back, eyeing you with cold disdain before turning his gaze to Vexiae once more. "Maybe I’ll find another way to break her," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You stood there, chest heaving, your heart hammering as you watched him walk away. But the defiance in your eyes never wavered. You knew the bond between you and Vexiae was unbreakable, and no matter what Feyde tried, he would never have what he craved.

As Feyde disappeared into the shadows, leaving you and Vexiae alone in the cavern, you whispered softly, "I’ll free you, my love. I swear it."

Leto moved like a shadow through the desert night, the cold air biting at his skin as he navigated the rocky outcrops that led to the Harkonnen weapon. His heart pounded, not from fear, but from the weight of what he knew had to be done. There wasn’t time to send a full squad. The longer this weapon remained operational, the more lives would be lost, and worse, you—Daenys—were out there somewhere, taken by Harkonnens.

He couldn’t wait for an army. This had to end now.

The Harkonnen weapon, a towering artillery cannon forged with stolen Targaryen Drakaon crystal technology, was hidden behind a ridge of jagged rock. Its monstrous silhouette loomed over the desert, casting long, eerie shadows under the twin moons of Arrakis. Leto crouched low, observing the guards around it. They were well-armed and vigilant, patrolling the perimeter with sharp eyes, their Harkonnen armor gleaming dully in the moonlight.

He slipped forward, making no sound as he crept toward the weapon's base. His pulse quickened as he neared the control terminal—a series of glowing panels nestled into the rock face, controlling the power source and aiming mechanisms. This was the key. If he could disrupt the crystal’s energy flow, the weapon would be rendered useless, and the attack it had been preparing would be stopped in its tracks.

Leto unsheathed his blade slowly, the metal barely whispering against the scabbard as he closed in on the nearest guard. In one swift motion, he was upon the man, silencing him with a quick, precise strike to the throat. The guard fell without a sound, and Leto dragged the body behind a nearby boulder before moving on to the next.

The adrenaline pumped through his veins, but his focus remained sharp. One by one, he dispatched the guards with cold efficiency, his years of training and battle experience guiding him. There was no hesitation, no room for error. Every second mattered.

With the perimeter clear, Leto turned his attention to the weapon itself. He approached the control terminal, the faint hum of the Drakaon crystal thrumming beneath the surface of the machine. It pulsed with an otherworldly energy, powering the monstrous weapon with enough force to take down even a dragon. His fingers hovered over the control panel for a moment as he assessed the layout, his mind racing to find a way to disable the weapon without triggering an alert.

Then, a sharp sound—a voice—cut through the air behind him.

"Hey! Stop right there!"

Leto’s body tensed as he turned to see another Harkonnen soldier rushing toward him, weapon raised. Without thinking, Leto lunged, closing the distance between them before the soldier could react. They grappled, the soldier struggling to bring his blaster to bear, but Leto was faster. He twisted the weapon out of the man's hands and drove his knife into the soldier's chest, ending the fight in a matter of seconds.

The soldier crumpled at his feet, but the commotion had drawn attention. Leto heard the distant shout of more guards approaching, and he knew time was running out. He hurried back to the terminal, fingers flying over the controls as he searched for the power source.

The hum of the crystal grew louder, its energy pulsating through the machine, threatening to unleash devastation at any moment. Leto's eyes scanned the control panel, locking onto the power core diagram. With a sharp breath, he initiated the shutdown sequence, rerouting the energy back into the core. The weapon’s lights flickered, and the hum faltered.

Just as he thought he had disabled the system, a sudden surge of energy blasted from the control terminal. Leto barely dodged in time as the power surge erupted, sending sparks flying into the air. The cannon groaned as its systems overloaded, the crystal’s energy threatening to erupt in a catastrophic explosion.

Leto had no choice. He had to destroy the crystal.

With a determined grimace, he pulled the blade from his belt and slammed it into the power conduit. The Drakaon crystal let out a shriek of energy, crackling with violent pulses of golden light, but Leto held his ground, driving the blade deeper. Sparks flew, and the ground beneath him trembled as the weapon’s systems began to fail.

The crystal exploded in a brilliant flash of light, sending shockwaves through the desert and knocking Leto off his feet. He hit the ground hard, the air forced from his lungs as the blast rattled the rocks around him. For a moment, everything went still, the night deathly silent as the weapon fell into ruins.

Leto struggled to his feet, dazed and battered, but alive. The weapon was destroyed, the Drakaon crystal reduced to shattered fragments. He could hear the distant shouts of the remaining Harkonnen soldiers, confused and disoriented by the loss of their weapon. It would buy time for his forces.

But there was still more to do.

As he stood, regaining his bearings, Leto noticed something—an opening in the rock face, hidden in the shadows. A side entrance to the caverns.

The Red Woman’s words echoed in his mind once again, almost as if she was there.

“Deep in the caverns, where the shadows whisper.”

Without hesitation, Leto steeled himself and moved toward the entrance. You were in there somewhere, and he would not stop until he found you.

Leto pressed a hand to the side of his helmet, trying again to reach Gurney through the comm link. Static hissed in response. He cursed under his breath, glancing back toward the cavern entrance where the battle raged outside. The explosion from the Drakaon crystal weapon must have interfered with the signal. He was on his own for now.

The tunnels stretched before him, dimly lit by flickering torches set into the walls. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and sweat, and every step he took echoed off the stone, threatening to give away his position. He had to move carefully. He couldn’t afford to be discovered, not yet.

His heart raced as he navigated the maze of caverns, each turn bringing him deeper into the Harkonnen stronghold. The weight of his exhaustion clung to him, but he pressed forward, driven by a singular purpose—you. The thought of you in the hands of these brutes filled him with a cold fury, but he knew he had to remain focused. Rushing in without a plan would only get him killed—and it wouldn’t save you.

Up ahead, Leto heard voices—rough and low, the unmistakable cadence of Harkonnen soldiers. He slowed his pace, moving silently against the cavern wall, staying in the shadows as he approached.

“…can’t believe the weapon just went offline like that,” one of the soldiers muttered, his voice thick with irritation. “Took months to get it operational, and now it’s a pile of scrap.”

Another one chuckled. “Yeah, but did you hear what happened? One Atreides soldier took it down. Just one man.”

“Bullshit,” a third voice chimed in, laughing. “No way one guy could’ve done that.”

“I’m telling you, that’s what I heard. Some freak out there tore through the whole defense line. Now we’ve got no heavy artillery, and Feyde’s pissed.”

The first soldier snorted. “Better hope it wasn’t the Duke. Heard he’s been looking for the Targaryen girl. If it was him, Feyde’s gonna have more than just a broken weapon to deal with.”

Leto’s heart tightened at the mention of your name. So, they knew you were still here, somewhere in these caverns. His grip on the hilt of his blade tightened as he stayed hidden in the shadows, listening intently.

“What’s the deal with her anyway?” one of the soldiers asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Why’s Feyde so obsessed with her?”

“Power,” came the low reply. “Targaryen secrets. Bonding with dragons. He thinks if he can get her to talk, he’ll control her beast. Turn it on the Atreides.”

The others laughed, the sound echoing through the cavern. “Yeah, good luck with that. I saw the thing chained up. It’s barely controllable as it is. If it gets loose, we’re all dead.”

Leto’s blood boiled at their laughter, but he forced himself to stay calm. The more they talked, the more information he could gather. There was no point in engaging them now, not when they were still unaware of his presence.

“Well, whatever happens, I just hope Feyde can keep her in line long enough for us to get out of here. I’m not sticking around if that dragon decides it’s had enough.”

The voices faded as the soldiers moved deeper into the caverns, their laughter trailing off into the distance. Leto waited until he was sure they were gone before stepping out from the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest.

You were alive, but in Feyde’s hands. And Vexiae, your dragon, was chained somewhere nearby, just as furious and dangerous as ever.

Leto’s jaw tightened as he moved forward, his senses sharp and his focus clear. He had to find you, and he had to do it soon. But the Harkonnens weren’t fools, and the deeper he ventured into the labyrinth, the more dangerous it became.

Every corner he turned, every step he took, brought him closer to his goal—but also deeper into the heart of enemy territory. He heard the distant clatter of weapons, the shuffle of armor against stone, but he stayed out of sight, moving with the precision and stealth that had kept him alive on countless battlefields.

The path split again, and Leto hesitated for a moment, trying to discern which direction to go. The voices of the soldiers had long since disappeared, leaving him to navigate the winding tunnels on instinct alone.

Suddenly, a distant roar echoed through the caverns. It was faint, but unmistakable—the sound of a dragon, your dragon. Vexiae.

Leto’s heart lurched in his chest. You were close, and so was your captor. The time for stealth was running out.

He pressed on, deeper into the caverns, each step bringing him closer to the confrontation he knew was inevitable. Feyde-Rautha was waiting, and so were you.

Leto pressed forward through the narrow passageway, his heartbeat quickening as the air grew hotter and thicker with the acrid scent of dragonfire. The walls around him seemed to close in, and the dim light from the torches flickered erratically as he edged toward the source of the sound.

Ahead, he caught a glimpse of Vexiae—your dragon, her massive form straining against the thick chains that bound her to the ground. She was battered and wounded, her scales scorched in places from the Harkonnen’s weapons. But even in her injured state, she was fierce. Her molten amber eyes flickered with rage as she thrashed against her restraints, her tail sweeping the ground in frustration.

Several Harkonnen soldiers stood nearby, taunting her, keeping just out of reach of her snapping jaws. One of them threw a rock at her flank, laughing cruelly as it bounced off her scales.

"Keep pushing her! Let’s see how much fire she’s got left!" one of the soldiers jeered, grinning as Vexiae let out another furious roar, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to summon the energy to retaliate.

Suddenly, with a great heaving effort, she managed to unleash a stream of fire, the flames bursting from her maw with a deafening roar. The soldiers scrambled back in panic, shouting and swearing as the fire nearly engulfed them. They retreated, cursing under their breath and leaving Vexiae alone, at least for the moment.

Leto seized the opportunity. He crept closer, moving carefully along the shadows of the cavern walls until he was near enough to see the strain in Vexiae’s movements. Her breathing was labored, and her wings hung limply at her sides, the chains binding her tightly to the ground.

She hadn’t seen him yet, but she sensed him. Leto watched as her nostrils flared, her head turning slightly in his direction, as if recognizing the scent of a familiar ally. Her growl softened, and her fiery eyes flickered toward the narrow passage where he stood.

“Easy now,” Leto whispered, stepping out of the shadows and making his way toward her. He moved slowly, cautiously, keeping his hands raised to show he meant no harm.

Vexiae’s eyes locked onto him, the fury in her gaze giving way to a glimmer of recognition. She let out a low rumble, a sound of acknowledgment, as her massive form shifted slightly. The tension in her body eased just enough for Leto to approach.

“I know,” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re hurt. But I’m going to free you. Just stay calm.”

He moved to the side, carefully examining the chains that bound her. They were reinforced, heavy iron links meant to keep even a creature as powerful as Vexiae grounded. The locks were intricate, no doubt designed by the Harkonnens to prevent a quick escape.

Vexiae growled softly again, her massive head lowering toward Leto as if watching his every move. She trusted him—he could sense it. But he also knew that if he made a mistake, if the soldiers returned too soon, things could go very wrong.

“Stay with me,” Leto whispered, running his hand gently along the side of her neck. Her scales were hot to the touch, her breath coming in ragged huffs as she tried to remain still. “I’ll get you out of here.”

He scanned the area, looking for anything he could use to break the chains. There were tools nearby—left behind by the soldiers when they had fled. A set of heavy cutters lay discarded on the ground, just within reach.

Leto grabbed the cutters and moved quickly to the first lock, his hands working with practiced precision. The metal resisted at first, the tension in the chain making it difficult to find the right leverage. Vexiae shifted slightly, a low growl rumbling through her throat as the sound of the metal groaned under the strain.

“Almost there,” Leto muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he worked. The last thing he needed was to draw attention from the remaining guards.

With a final, forceful snap, the first chain broke loose. Vexiae’s tail twitched, the relief in her body palpable as the weight on her wings lifted slightly.

“One more,” Leto said, moving to the next lock. His hands moved more quickly now, fueled by the urgency of the situation. Every second counted.

Vexiae stayed calm, her breathing steadying as she watched Leto work. She knew him, trusted him, and that bond was the only thing keeping her from lashing out in her weakened state.

Just as Leto began to work on the final lock, he heard the distant sound of footsteps—the soldiers were returning. His pulse quickened, but he kept his focus on the task in front of him. There was no time for hesitation now.

With a sharp twist of the cutters, the last chain snapped free. Vexiae let out a soft rumble of relief, her wings stretching slightly as the weight of her bindings fell away.

“Go,” Leto urged her, stepping back as Vexiae rose to her full height. The dragon’s eyes blazed with renewed strength, her muscles coiling as she prepared to move.

Vexiae, with a powerful flex of her wings and limbs, began scaling the cavern walls, her talons finding purchase in the rocky surface as she climbed toward one of the larger passageways above the main chamber. Leto watched in awe as her massive form disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind only the faint echo of her movements as she slithered into the higher tunnel, now free and out of sight.

He knew he needed to move quickly. The Harkonnen soldiers would return any moment, and if they found him there without the dragon, they would sound the alarm. His eyes darted around the chamber, scanning for a place to hide. The cavern was filled with jagged rock formations, but none that could conceal him for long. Then he spotted a narrow crevice in the far wall, barely wide enough for him to slip into.

The footsteps were growing louder, accompanied by the harsh laughter and crude taunts of the Harkonnen troops. Leto wasted no time, moving swiftly across the chamber and wedging himself into the crevice. He pressed his back against the cold rock, holding his breath as the soldiers entered the chamber.

“Where’s the beast?” one of them barked, looking around in confusion. “She was here just moments ago!”

Another soldier stepped forward, his face pale as he stared at the broken chains on the ground. “She’s gone! The dragon’s gone!”

Panic rippled through the group. They spun in circles, searching the shadows for any sign of Vexiae, their weapons drawn but trembling in their hands.

“How could she escape?” one of them demanded, his voice rising in fear. “No one could break those chains!”

“We’re dead if she comes back,” another muttered, his eyes wide with terror. “You saw what happened last time. She’ll burn us all alive.”

Leto could hear the fear in their voices, and it sent a surge of satisfaction through him. The Harkonnens had no idea what they were dealing with. Vexiae was far more than just a weapon—she was a force of nature. And they were foolish to think they could ever truly contain her.

The soldiers frantically looked around the chamber, checking every corner and crevice for the dragon. But they were too late. Vexiae had already escaped into the higher passages, and Leto had no doubt that she was making her way toward freedom—and perhaps, revenge.

One of the soldiers, clearly the leader, cursed under his breath and turned toward the entrance. “Spread out! Find her! If the beast escapes, the Baron will have our heads.”

The others followed his command, reluctantly moving toward the various tunnels that branched off from the chamber. Their footsteps echoed in the distance as they disappeared, leaving the chamber momentarily empty once more.

Leto exhaled slowly, easing out of the crevice as the last of the soldiers vanished from sight. He couldn’t linger here any longer. You were still out there, and every second he wasted meant you were in greater danger.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Leto moved toward the larger passageway where Vexiae had escaped. He knew he had to find you before the Harkonnens did. He wouldn’t rest until you were safe again, back in his arms.

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vibratingskull · 1 year ago

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"Can I request thrawn x female reader where someone trying to seduce him and reader kinda insecure about themself." -anon

Insecure reader incoming! But Thrawn won't tolerate it!!!

Thrawn x f!reader

No pronouns or Y/n

You adjust your corset.

God it is tight, but that’s how the dress must be worn.

And Thrawn said you looked superb in it. So you’ll suffer it for his pleasure.

You hear the party raging on in the next room, the shoutings, the laughs, the clinking of glasses with the music… It is a lively party. You insisted for Thrawn to accompany you despite knowing he would rather stay at your Corusantian apartment to work. But it is good for him too to go out and meet people, so you dragged him anyway. He reluctantly abided by your choice with a patient and gentle smile and escorted you to the party very gallantly. You promised him you would not stay long, just enough for you to have some fun and him to make some profitable relationships.

You observe yourself in the mirror of the bathroom, you’re a little tired but nothing a touch up of make up couldn't mask, you comb your hair again too and put back on some perfume, Thrawn’s favorite, the one he offered you for your birthday. Someday when you put it on he just comes from behind you, hugs you and buries his nose in your neck to deeply inhale the fragrance. You flush and speed up your process, impatient to get back to his side.

As you get out of the bathrooms you search for him a bit, walking among the guests in grand clothing and expensive jewelry. You spot him in a deep conversation with a lady in a deep showy red dress with a deep cleavage.

You don’t judge, you rock your own, but something in her demeanor displeases you. Is it how she smiles? How she swing her hips as he talks? How she seem to press herself against him when someone needs to pass behind her? At any rate you hurry your pace to join him as quickly as possible.

“Ah, dear!” He welcomes you “I was just talking with this lady about Togruta’s tapestries and carved statues. She is a real goldmine.” All your senses are on high alert, it is your privilege to speak about art with him for hours on end.

“Really…?” You say with a shy voice. You look up to him and see his eyes sparkling and a thin smile on his lips.

No…

You never saw him like that.

Not even with you.

“Oh it is nothing much really, everyone knows about that.” She laughs.

You gulp. You know nothing about those subjects, or just a little.

“I see your glass is empty, dear. Let me bring you another one.” He gallantly takes your glass to refill it of any fine wine they got.

She observes him go then turns back towards you with a carnivorous grin.

“And who might you be?” she asks, judging you head to toes

She towers over you with her high heels and sparkly necklace. Yours don’t sparkle as much.

“I’m his fiance.” You stick out your chest.

Her smile turns into a sly grin.

“Oh really? I don’t remember seeing a ring.” She licks her teeth.

Thrawn’s culture doesn’t use rings and you didn’t want to impose that on him.

“Well… That’s because he doesn’t have use for them!”

“Oh? What an excuse. If you want my opinion it’s because he doesn’t want to be bound to you forever.” She continues with honey in her voice. “I had a little discussion with him as you were trying to look…. salvageable in those bathrooms. He’s a man of great talent and a magnificent mind. He must find a woman with matching grandeur!” She chuckles with sparkles in her eyes. “And I quite don’t think you’ll make the cut, honey…”

“I… You… What makes you say that?!” You try to gather your words as all your insecurities bubble up under your skin.

“Oh honey, it is useless to state the obvious. You’re a pretty little creature for a working class person, but you’ll never be nothing more.”

“He doesn’t care about that! He’s working class too, we have more in common than you think!” You flush of anger and embarrassment. “And I am a Lieutenant Commander, show some respect!”

She tuts.

“He may not care about your standing, but he sure cares about his career. And a woman of la creme de la creme of Coruscant would secure him significant political power. Tell me, what bonus and advantages a Lieutenant commander can bring him?” She puts her hand on her hip.

“He doesn’t understand politics.” You gulp

“It’s okay, I can teach him. I can be a really good teacher when I want too.” She traces her bosoms with the tip of her finger mind-absently. “Especially for such a handsome man.”

It makes you want to puke. What if she’s right? You dig your nails in the fabric of your dress, tears gathering behind your eyes.

“Oh honey, don’t cry. You’re gonna ruin your low budget make up. I’m sure you put a lot of effort just to look presentable.” She hands you a handkerchief with pity in her eyes.

You don’t take it. You feel constricted in your corset, like air doesn't go down to your lungs.

“He loves me.” You greet your teeth.

“I’m sure he does. Like someone loves a sick half-breed puppy found in the trash. He’s too polite to tell you but he just keeps you around until he finds better. And if I’m not mistaken…” She readjusts her bustier and deepens her cleavage, “He just did tonight.”

“What might you be talking about you two?” Thawn reappears with your glass in hand.

“Nothing. About taking a fresh start in life with good partners.” She laughs, clinking her glass with his.

He looks puzzled for a second ,“Should I be worrying?” He turns towards you with a raised eyebrow. You immediately wipe the tears that started rolling down before he can notice them and shake your head.

“No.” You mumble. “I need some fresh air…” You excuse yourself and heads towards the doors as quickly as your heels permit you. You let your tears run, ruining your mascara.

A hand seize your arm.

“Dear? Is everything good?” Thrawn ask with frowning brows.

“Yes. Leave me alone.” You try to evade his grasp but he squeezes harder.

“Not even for a second when you cry like that.” He looks around. “Follow me on this balcony.”

He guides you, his hand on your lower back and closes the windows behind you once you're on the balcony. You hug yourself, trying to relax. He comes behind you and embraces you. You stiffen in his arms, not turning towards him.

“Talk to me love, do not remain alone with your pain.” He murmurs in your ear.

“Thrawn, do you love me?” you ask bluntly.

He parts with you to look in your eyes, with an air of seriousness and sadness in his eyes.

“Is it what is worrying you?”

“Answer me.” You remember how he looked at her, curling your hands into fists.

“I love you.” He caresses your cheek, speaking softly. “Of course I do. Every second until my heart stops beating I will love you with all my soul.”

“Would you leave me for someone else?”

“Is that what you really talked about with her?” He inquires in a murmure.

“Forget her for a second” you gulp, pushing back your tears. “Would you?”

He looks into your eyes, searching for something, then sighs.

“I do not know what the future holds,” he admits “maybe our paths are bound to separate at one point. But maybe not. Maybe we are destined to remain together until the end.” He presses you against him. “As of today, I want no one else but you at my side.”

“You don’t regret choosing me?”

“Why would I?” He put a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are perfect for me. You keep me grounded, you help me to never forget the price of a life because yours is beyond any riches of the galaxy. You comfort me and hold me close in your arms. My home is where you are.”

“You would say that about any lover.” You put.

He winces for a second, calculating his mistake.”What could I say or do to convince you?”

“What do you even see in me?”

“Everything. I love your mannerism, the way you take a breath before talking, the way you walk on heels. The way you think completes mine, how you take problems like no one else would. I love the scent of your hair and the way your eyes reflect light. I love your nose…” He says brushing his nose with yours, earning a small chuckle from you. “I love who you are as a person and as a colleague. I never feel as much supported and prepared when you are at my side.I feel invincible with you.”

You look up to his gaze with teary eyes.

“So you do love me?” You ask with a shaky voice, full of tears and hope;

“I do.” and he seals his words with a tender kiss. You grasp his white uniform and dig your nails in the fabric, forcing him to lean on against your lips. He slide his hand in your back and behind your head, deepening the kiss.

You part only when you lack air, panting to breathe while he looks unbothered. It makes him chuckles and kisses your forehead. “You are perfect to me, ch’acah.”

You faintly smile at the pet name, and hug him back.

“Thrawn?”

“Yes, ch’acah?”

“I want rings.”

“Yes ch’acah. Let us quit this boring party and find a jeweler’s.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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yallemagne · 1 year ago

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"Oh my God! my God! what have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril; and in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!"

Mina asks what she's done to deserve this perceived punishment. After all, she did everything she was expected to as a Good Christian Woman. She obediently acquiesced when the Patriarch told her to, and she suffered quietly and out of the way of the Men as they did their work.

Why is she punished if she did everything right? Mina assumes that this must mean that it is not her actions that earned her this fate, but instead, some awfulness that is inherent to her as a woman. She once compared herself to Eve, who is held to this day as the eternal example by Christians of the intrinsic sinfulness of women. After all, why was it Eve who ate the apple first and not Adam? Why was it Pandora who tipped over the vase or opened the box? Those in power reason that it is because they were women, and women are prone to disobey God, hence why they never let women be in power. Mina has no option but to believe that she somehow transgressed despite all her efforts not to because she is a woman. Eve and Pandora doomed humanity because of a pursuit of knowledge in disobedience against God, and by that logic, Mina doomed herself and the men by opening Jonathan's journal.

But who disobeys God today? Not Mina. Mina is fervent in her belief, even if now she doubts that she is worthy of God's mercy.

"I promise you, my dear friend, that if God will let me live, I shall strive to do so; till, if it may be in His good time, this horror may have passed away from me."

If, if, if God will let her live, if God will let her suffering cease. These are ifs. She won't let herself say "when" because she fears to do so is too hubristic. And still, when Jonathan raises his voice to God, she scolds him.

"May God give him into my hand just for long enough to destroy that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If beyond it I could send his soul for ever and ever to burning hell I would do it!" "Oh, hush! oh, hush! in the name of the good God. Don't say such things, Jonathan, my husband; or you will crush me with fear and horror. [...] but I pray that God may not have treasured your wild words, except as the heart-broken wail of a very loving and sorely stricken man. Oh, God, let these poor white hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who all his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have come."

Jonathan prays God will be so merciful to them as to give him the opportunity to stop the Count once and for all. But Mina fears God. She wishes Jonathan would fear God as well. She fears that if they are too ungracious in their suffering, they'll be punished further. If Jonathan asks for too much from God, God will scorn his eagerness and smite them both.

But does God ever punish Jonathan? No, not unless you agree with Mina and think the whitening hair was done in retribution for something. Nor did God really punish Mina. They have not transgressed whatsoever. Mina is right that she did everything right, that Jonathan has done no wrong, but she comes to the conclusion that though they are good people, they have earned suffering by being too expectant of God's mercy, and so, they must humble themselves.

"Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh! I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the Judgment Day."

Mina is wrong to assign any intent to God's actions. She does so because VH did as well. While he was rallying the team for their mission, he spoke of how reviled the Count and his ilk are in the eyes of God. That, if they fail their mission, they will be despised by God for their failure. He assumes this because holy objects hurt vampires. And now the wafer burns Mina, and she concludes that God hates her.

But it is not proof God hates her! She is not being punished, and that is the entire point! Bram writes a story where good people suffer awful hardships despite the ever-present belief that the good cannot suffer because they are good and that only the wicked suffer.

But what do we see here?! God does not inflict suffering upon the wicked! If God did that, wouldn't Dracula be in Hell being punished instead of on Earth and gloating?

But he's not because God is an entirely passive figure in this story. It is only when people take their symbols into their hands and use them that they harm anyone. The wafer that VH tried to use to bless Mina did not hurt her because God hates her, it hurt her because the wafer was being used as a ward against the Count, and she was forced to drink the Count's blood. VH cannot use the power of God to protect Mina from something already inside and killing her, it's too late for such protection. It is only she who can protect herself, now.

#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula #this is very all ove rthe place I feel but I cannot sit any longer #mina harker #cw christianity

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themadlu · 7 months ago

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A Star's Purpose

Part of the Spelljammer challenge by @spacebarbarianweird!

Astarion is happy, truly happy, in the safety of his lover's affection. The troubles of the Underdark have no sway on his mood as he relishes simply existing with his Zélie.

Until a call for help takes them to the depths of the Astral Sea on a Spelljammer vessel, and he'll be damned if he lets his maddening hero face the dangers of interplanar space on her own.

TW: None, I think. Maybe a smidge of self-worth issues? And end-of-game spoilers.

Not beta read and minimal editing, sorry for any mistakes!

This is mostly non-canon to Zélie and Astarion's story (I think).

@amywritesthings, in case you wanna check it out!

A year and a half has passed since the Netherbrain’s defeat. Zélie stayed in Faerun with Astarion, who’s now confined in the shadows due to his vampiric nature. They have settled in the Underdark, after concluding it was their duty to guide the 7,000 spawns towards a semi-functional society and a second chance at life. The lovers live in the magic tower near the sussur tree and have made it their own haven. A home, Zélie would say, but she is home to Astarion, and where they are matters not.

He just wants to keep falling into reverie with her warm body tangled in his, keeping his demons at bay, and welcome the day with her wild, owlbear-esque hair all over his face. To live in the comfort of each other’s embrace, as nauseatingly cliche as it sounds. Not that she would allow it on most days, his precious, maddening woman. They have responsibilities, she says. Obligations. To the hells with them, he thinks, as he walks with her towards whatever bothersome issue they need to attend to next.

So what happens when a message comes from a dear friend asking for their assistance in the cold void of the Outer Planes? Astarion knows. His steadfast hero will do what heroes are expected to do: run to the rescue, even if she’d rather not risk their lives again so soon after…well, everything. “You don’t have to come, Astarion, really. Actually, I think it more appropriate for you to stay here, now that we are making progress with your siblings.” As if. Aurelia and Leon can make themselves useful for once and hold the fort on their own. The pale elf is no hero and never will be, but his heart beats in her chest and her soul is his own, so he’d be damned if he doesn’t follow her into this new, gigantic mess. She (“We, Astarion”) already slayed a Netherbrain; what’s a lich queen in comparison.

______________________________________________________________

Well, that’s impressive.

Astarion examines the raiding ship that Lae’zel somehow managed to secure. The very thing that is going to sail them into the cold, deep astral sea. The technology is clearly Illithid—since he woke up inside that fleshy pod, he’s become familiar enough with their tentacled technology to recognise it when he sees it. But the Githianki’s influence is evident: the large, fan-shaped sails stand proud against the moonlit sky like a dragon’s wings, ready to take their riders towards their next conquest. The front of the ship has what he can only describe as teeth; fanged protrusions, not unlike his own, ready to swallow whole whatever unfortunate creatures they’ll meet. A silent but unavoidable promise of war echoes off the vessel. It makes Astarion antsy.

He has no issue with violence–he still revels in it at times, the need to own, to consume and not be consumed, so typical of his kind, exasperated by the horrors he suffered. But his bouts of spite and aggression have been fading since her.

He turns to look at Zélie only to find her staring at the ship with eyes so wide they mirror the moon perfectly. Her mouth is the slightest bit agape in wonder, the closer her stern face can get to a surprised expression. Perfect thing. Gods, over a year together (A year, five tendays and eight days.), barely leaving each other’s side even in dreams, and his little hero still leaves him speechless with the smallest quirk.

(The way she smiles at him when she thinks he isn’t looking makes him want to scream, weep, beg her for forgiveness—for all he has to his name is a used body—and ravage her for days. At the same time.)

You’re a gift, my love. Let me keep you.

Astarion isn’t worthy of her devotion and mercy, no angry huffs and puffs from her will convince him fully, but gods below he wants to be. He’ll do anything, become anything to keep her safe, happy, looking at him as if he were some miracle of the heavens.

(Do it. I dare you, he thinks to the silent gods, Try to take her from me. See what happens next.)

“Seen something you like, darling?” He jests in an airy tone, both because he likes to prattle and because her attention scalds him kindly, completely, like the sun never could. Insufferable woman, making him feel so alive.

Zélie flips her head towards him, frizzy curls bouncing wildly. “Oh Astarion, this ship! I know we’ve been on a mindflayer vessel before, but this is incredible!” She takes his hand in hers and he burns in the best way possible.

Precious thing, so enamoured by technology, human or otherwise. He pulls her into his arms so he can feel whole one last time before he has to share her with their friends. Astarion kisses her softly, a grin on his lips at her inexorable embarrassment. She is not one for public displays of affection—most of the time.

(Part of the reason he prefers it when it’s just the two of them, so he can worship her properly in the temple of their home.)

Fuck.

He is getting hard just thinking about it. He needs to distract himself or else he’ll end up with a wet patch on his trousers that Lae’zel will ridicule until the end of days.

Jealous prick. Green suits her.

The pale elf grips Zélie tighter, his familiar hardness pressing into her stomach, and her already wide eyes become impossibly larger, paler. (He so wishes he had a reflection in times like these.)

“I stand by my point, my sweet. Size does matter, it seems.” Astarion winks at her and the woman’s flustered expression turns unamused. Oh, he so adores riling her up, his fierce hero.

It seems he has underestimated the effect he’s had on her since they met—he can’t believe it’s almost as deep as the one she had on him—because suddenly she presses into him, burying a hand into one of her coat’s pockets so she can grab his length without being seen. Astarion hisses under his breath with poorly concealed pleasure. It’s his eyes that widen and darken now.

“You, cheeky, little pup,” he murmurs, rattles, heat spreading through him so that he would surely combust if he weren’t a cold corpse.

“Mhm. I guess you do have a point, my dear,” Zélie says, face still unamused as she looks at him and gives him a gentle squeeze to emphasise her statement.

(It takes all of his self-control not to buck his hips into her hand.)

“Although size doesn’t mean quality. Both are necessary. What good would such a huge ship do to us if it couldn’t sail properly, don’t you think?” She whispers the last few words in his sensitive ear and Astarion almost whines, the desire pooling in his underwear threatening to stain the fabric.

If it were anyone else touching him like she does, Astarion would rip their throat and limbs out or die in the attempt. But it’s his Zélie and, gods and hells, he wants her, this, all of it, desperately. Her hands are so gentle to him, always, as if he would break should she press a little harder. He thought it was her relative inexperience at first, or worse, pity. The idea that she could be so tender with someone like him purely because she wanted to was unfathomable; now, he has no interest in living without it.

Only she can come to him unannounced. She can do anything she wants with him.

(He trusts her more than he trusts himself.)

“T’chaki, you two never cease to be revolting,” a cutting voice calls out from behind them. Ah, right. Lae’zel is here. And a few dozen other Gith warriors loyal to Orpheus, all looking equally disgusted.

Astarion scowls at them while his love-addled brain quickly sobers up at their most untimely appearance (Thank you very much, Lae’zel.)

Only then, he notices the strangeness of his predicament: it’s his usually stony Zélie who’s all but moulding their bodies into one, it’s her smaller frame in his arms and her fingers caressing his still-hard length.

Oh? You’re more worried about this journey than you let on, aren’t you, darling?

He recognises the signs from their last life-threatening adventure, her need to have him close to her so she could keep him safe. Impossible thing, always shielding him so fiercely, he is starting to consider his centuries of captivity as a due price for having her to himself.

(A mortal human protecting a vampire should be laughable, but she saved him in every possible way already.)

Astarion snarls in warning at the burdensome company that ruined what could be the last moment of private intimacy with his person in a long while. “With all due respect, Lae’zel dear, go fuck off for a bit, would you?”

Lae’zel’s warriors look just about ready to use him as a practice target (They can try.) when the woman in his embrace clears her throat, “It’s all right, Lae’zel. We’re revising last-minute arrangements for the journey. We’ll board in a moment, thank you.”

The Gith does not look happy, but she and Zélie share a close friendship (And a stick up both their backsides, Astarion used to think.), so she listens to her and heads to the ship with her crew, cursing some pretty mild threats. Small mercies.

“Oh,” Finally alone, Zélie realises she is still gripping Astarion’s length, colour draining from her face in mortification. “I’m so sorry Astarion, I got carried away,” she tries to move her hand away but he grabs her wrist, keeping her in place.

“You don’t have to apologise, love. I know I’m simply irresistible!” His attempt to lighten her mood is met with a sceptic glance. Silly, precious thing, always caring for his well-being. Let me help you. “Truthfully, my sweet,” his next words are the truest ones he’s ever uttered, “you know I’m yours.”

Zélie raises an eyebrow, “you are your own person, Astarion. We went through this, multiple times in fact.”

He laughs, “To you, with you, darling, it doesn’t matter. As you can clearly see,” he squeezes her hand around his dripping cock.

His stubborn woman studies him carefully, searching for any of his masks and finding none. “Very well,” she concedes. She turns to her left as noises filter from the ship. “Last chance, Astarion. If you want to remain in the Underdark, you must tell me now. Lord knows how long this expedition will last, and I reckon your siblings would benefit greatly from you being there to—”

That’s what it is, then. She worries for him still; and it still unravels him.

Let me care for you, idiot.

“Hush, you,” Astarion places a finger on her lips to shush her, “I am where I belong.”

(Something inside him tears at the thought of being separated from Zélie. Of her alone in the face of danger.)

His hero’s stance softens, finally relaxed. Her relief makes her look so much younger. “Oh, well, in that case,” she leans into him and kisses him. Truly, fearlessly, savouring all of him. Astarion barely suppresses a noise of surprise before responding in kind, fangs grazing her lips, never hurting her (Never.), devouring her.

Zélie quietly moans into him. Astounding, how she is still pleasured by such a simple act when they have been entangled into way more complex scenarios during the last year. (As if he were not close to coming already.) If the Gith are watching, he’ll gauge their eyes out.

A tremble of the earth signals that the ship is ready for departure. Zélie detaches from him and this time he does whine at her loss. She gives one last gentle squeeze to his length, making him narrow his eyes at her. The cool night air flows between them.

“The moment we are alone, I will bury myself into your perfect little body so deeply they will have to pry me from you, love.”

(There’s no holier sight than her tender ecstasy as she shatters around him.)

He expects her embarrassment but not her smirk, “Careful. Promises must be kept, Astarion.”

She pecks him on the lips again, fully extricating herself from him to climb the steps to the main deck.

Cheeky, maddening pup.

Yes, Astarion decides, he will make her shout his name so loud Vlaakith herself will hear.

______________________________________________________________

The Astral Sea is not what Astarion expected. Not that he expected much of anything since he didn’t really want to come here in the first place.

Zélie is leaning against the taffrail in front of him, a multitude of celestial bodies surrounding them. She is so eager to examine every part of the vessel that she stepped onto the outer deck the moment the ship slowed down to pick up some more crew members (As if they weren’t cramped enough already.)

“Don’t you find it uncanny, Astarion? This works very much like a regular ship, and yet it doesn’t. The Astral Sea functions like any material sea, until it doesn’t. And those strange helms—”

“A pinnacle of technology, taken from the Ghaik and immensely improved by the Githianki so that our empire may conquer and prosper,” comments Lae’zel. Her queen’s betrayal hasn’t quelled the admiration for her own people; if anything, she seems more determined than ever to see a worthy leader at the helm of Gith society. “With a spelljamming brig such as this, you can travel anywhere, anytime. Time passes differently in the Astral Plane. Open a gate into one of many material planes to plunder and pillage to your heart’s content!”

Gods, intense as always I see. Good.

A formidable trait in war; fearsome in a foe, welcome in an ally.

(So Lae’zel can protect Zélie on the battlefield while he keeps her safe from the shadows.)

Zélie’s attention shifts to the mechanism supporting the sails as she speaks, “The travelling part sounds delightful, Lae’zel. The plundering and pillaging less so, for my tastes.”

The Gith begins a rant about the istik’s inherent weak nature. She even dares to say his Zélie should have chosen her as a partner, back when she proposed, so her martial skills would not have been dulled by the puny vampire.

Excuse me?!

“I’ll let you know, Lae’zel, that I can keep our dear leader on her toes just fine,” the elf interjects. Astarion is about to add a snarky remark (He was chosen after all.), but Zélie speaks first, “Oh Lae’zel, I would have just been an impediment and you know it. I would have slowed down all the conquering and deadly fighting you enjoy so much. Besides,” she turns to Astarion, a playful glint in her eyes. If he weren’t so attuned to her, he’d miss it.

(He wonders how many silent gestures he has missed at the start of their travels.)

“I am where I am meant to be,” she concluded. The tips of his ears definitely do not blush at those words.

(She’ll be the end of him and he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Astarion shoots his darling a winning smile, which morphs into a cocky grin as he looks at Lae’zel.

There. Don’t be sour, you heard what she said.

Lae’zel is unimpressed. “T’chk. Suit yourself, Zel. Your loss.”

She marches off towards the helm of the brig when Zélie interrupts her, “Wait. You mentioned that time here passes differently, but how so?”

The Gith sighs, “Ignorants. It’s not the time itself, but its effects. They come to an almost complete halt; no hunger, no ageing—you’ll see when you won’t recall the last time you ate.”

“Oh”. Oh.

No ageing is almost as good as—

Immortality.

Astarion has heard about the Astral plane before, but it seemed so out of his reach he never bothered to learn more. He pickpocketed a book or two about it from some of his liaisons, but they were confiscated immediately and he was handed to Godey for his insolence. It’s not as if Cazador ever had any interest in entertaining his spawn’s curiosity.

Time is of no consequence to him, but to know that Zélie’s limited lifespan (Because of course the impossible woman had to be human, of all things.) could also be endlessly extended—

Astarion faces her, her eyes already on him, lit up with the same realisation. He doesn’t dare to hope it’s going to be that simple, but gods, if anyone deserves eternal life is her. And he deserves some happiness without such a dreadfully finite time limit, he fucking does.

He sees how Lae’zel looks at him, then Zélie, and sighs loudly. She stomps off, shouting, “Boarding is about to be complete. I suggest you two get inside soon enough, if you don’t want to end your dull lives swept away by the astral winds.”

Astarion nods as she passes by him—her people-reading’s skills have improved enormously since they met. The moment she is out of earshot, he speaks, “Darling, did you—”

“I don’t know—” Zélie says, at the same time.

The elf lets out a shrill, small laugh, “You first, my sweet.”

She smiles, a “I don’t know what to think, Astarion. Being immune to the effects of time, it all seems so impossible, so…” He knows what she is thinking, that it’s unnatural, that it’s not how things, people, are supposed to be. When he thought ascending was the right choice for them, when he failed to convince her to embrace becoming his eternal bride, she recoiled, attached to her mortality.

She doesn’t understand.

He would outlive her even if he were not a vampire because he is an elf and she, holy as she is, is human. There is no facet of reality where she won’t leave him behind and go where he can’t follow—

“I think we should try,” Zélie stands taller, back straight, like a general making an important call, “After we help your siblings and all the others settle down. Who knows, maybe we can even get our own astral skiff. Do you think dogs will be fine here? I wouldn’t want to leave Scratch behind.”

She talks faster, excited, and Astarion’s breath catches, head spinning even though he doesn’t need air. He darts forward to cage her between himself and the taffrail, causing her to let out the most adorable little breath.

(Perfect.)

Zélie composes herself again, “And if we can travel between material planes, there may be a chance to find mine…to find my family. Even if just to tell them I’m well and to introduce you to them.”

Astarion feels like he’s falling, so he catches himself with centuries-old sarcasm. “To—what? Love, you can’t be serious. Introducing a vampire spawn to your oh-so-proper family is a moronic thing to do, even for an impossible woman such as yourself.”

They would scorn you my sweet.

She speaks of her family, her planet, sometimes. The image of stern faces, so similar to hers, twisted in fear—or worse, disgust—at the monster their precious Zélie is in love with leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He isn’t fond of children, but even he wouldn’t want his daughter to have anything to do with something like him.

Zélie exhales in offence, “Of course I want you to meet them, ridiculous elf. I have nothing to hide. I am proud of you, all of you, infinitely, and I know they would be too. You complete me, and for that they would welcome you with open arms.” She stares him down in challenge.

Astarion studies her expression as he presses his forehead to hers. He seeks for unwillingness, for embellishments of the truth—because lying is a sin to her— and finds none.

You mean this. Gods.

“Yes, love. We can bring the pest. We can even ask Halsin for the owlbear if you’d like. We will travel through every single material plane if we need to. Anything,” he kisses her parted lips, “Anything,” pecks her cheeks, “Anything,” her forehead, “Anything,” her nose, “Anything you want.” His grip on her tightens.

She smiles at his onslaught, “All right, all right. We’ll find out how to make it work. For a while!” Zélie points her index finger at him in mock sternness, “I don’t think an unchanging eternity wandering the Astral Sea is something we should limit ourselves to, even if I want to. What purpose would it serve?”

“Purpose?” Astarion snarls the word as if it personally offended him, “We are purpose enough, stubborn woman.” He lifts her up and she clings to him on instinct. He strides inside the ship, ignoring the disapproving looks of the Giths.

“Astarion! What are you doing?!”

He whispers, fangs grazing her ear, “I’m finding a private space on this overcrowded thing, darling, so I can fully demonstrate how purposeful I can be.”

Zélie pales and flushes at the same time, and Astarion can feel himself basically purring at the thought of what he’s going to do to her—

“I’m glad you learnt to keep your promises, Astarion,” she murmurs, the outline of a smile into his neck.

Oh love, you have no idea.

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